


One Hundred Drabbles

by meditationsinemergencies



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, Lucius bashing, M/M, Open Marriage, Oral Sex, Pre-Relationship, Some Modern Muggle AUs, Vaginal Fingering, dildo, hands jobs, reference to infertility, reference to miscarriages, some Modern AUs, strap on, the perfect date, vaginal intercourse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:40:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 101
Words: 52,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23554714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meditationsinemergencies/pseuds/meditationsinemergencies
Summary: One various Harry Potter drabble each day for one hundred days.
Relationships: Arthur Weasley/Molly Weasley, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Fleur Delacour/Nymphadora Tonks, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter/Nymphadora Tonks, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Fred Weasley, Hermione Granger/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Pansy Parkinson, Hermione Granger/Remus Lupin, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Severus Snape, Hermione Granger/Viktor Krum, Luna Lovegood/Draco Malfoy, Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley, Luna Lovegood/Harry Potter, Narcissa Black Malfoy/Bill Weasley, Narcissa Black Malfoy/Severus Snape, Nymphadora Tonks/Charlie Weasley, Pansy Parkinson/Harry Potter, Pansy Parkinson/Nymphadora Tonks, Pansy Parkinson/Ron Weasley, Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks, Seamus Finnigan/Dean Thomas, Severus Snape/Molly Weasley, Severus Snape/Nymphadora Tonks, Severus Snape/Sybill Trelawney, Sirius Black/Hermione Granger, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 346
Kudos: 393





	1. Table of Contents

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to the wonderful [adavison](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adavison/profile) for coming up with this idea and for always being an outstanding friend and beta. 
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr, too! I'm meditationsinemergencies.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Below are the listed chapters with the pairings and characters in each chapter.  
> Character A / Character B denotes either a pre-romantic relationship or a romantic relationship.  
> Character A & Character B denotes friendship or a colleague/mentor relationship between characters.  
> Thanks for popping in and enjoy!

  1. Table of Contents 
  2. Draco Malfoy / Hermione Granger
  3. Ron Weasley / Pansy Parkinson

  4. Severus Snape / Nymphadora Tonks

  5. Severus Snape / Nymphadora Tonks

  6. Molly Weasley / Arthur Weasley

  7. Severus Snape / Sybill Trelawney

  8. Hermione Granger / Viktor Krum

  9. Hermione Granger / Severus Snape

  10. Hermione Granger / Ron Weasley

  11. Hermione Granger / Pansy Parkinson

  12. Severus Snape / Nymphadora Tonks

  13. Hermione Granger / Draco Malfoy

  14. Molly Weasley & Remus Lupin / Nymphadora Tonks

  15. Severus Snape / Sybill Trelawney

  16. Hermione Granger / Severus Snape

  17. Remus Lupin / Nymphadora Tonks

  18. Severus Snape / Sybill Trelawney

  19. Sirius Black / Hermione Granger

  20. Severus Snape / Sybill Trelawney

  21. Hermione Granger / Draco Malfoy

  22. Remus Lupin / Hermione Granger

  23. Nymphadora Tonks / Harry Potter

  24. Hermione Granger / Pansy Parkinson

  25. Draco Malfoy / Harry Potter

  26. Severus Snape & Minerva McGonagall

  27. Charlie Weasley / Nymphadora Tonks

  28. Hermione Granger / Draco Malfoy

  29. Sirius Black / Remus Lupin Harry Potter / Nymphadora Tonks

  30. Fleur Delacour / Nymphadora Tonks

  31. Fleur Delacour / Nymphadora Tonks

  32. Fleur Delacour / Nymphadora Tonks

  33. Fred Weasley / Hermione Granger

  34. Remus Lupin / Nymphadora Tonks

  35. Severus Snape / Narcissa Malfoy

  36. Severus Snape / Narcissa Malfoy

  37. Hermione Granger / Draco Malfoy

  38. Harry Potter / Pansy Parkinson

  39. Harry Potter / Pansy Parkinson

  40. Harry Potter / Pansy Parkinson

  41. Charlie Weasley / Nymphadora Tonks

  42. Severus Snape / Nymphadora Tonks

  43. Luna Lovegood / Draco Malfoy

  44. Remus Lupin / Nymphadora Tonks

  45. Hermione Granger / Draco Malfoy

  46. Ron Weasley / Pansy Parkinson

  47. Hermione Granger / Viktor Krum

  48. Remus Lupin / Sirius Black

  49. Severus Snape / Nymphadora Tonks

  50. Hermione Granger / Draco Malfoy

  51. Luna Lovegood / Harry Potter

  52. Remus Lupin / Sirius Black

  53. Hermione Granger / Draco Malfoy

  54. Hermione Granger / Ron Weasley

  55. Harry Potter & Ron Weasley

  56. Minerva McGonagall & Severus Snape / Nymphadora Tonks

  57. Dean Thomas / Seamus Finnigan

  58. Fred Weasley / Hermione Granger

  59. Hermione Granger / Draco Malfoy

  60. Remus Lupin / Nymphadora Tonks

  61. Charlie Weasley / Nymphadora Tonks

  62. Severus Snape / Sybill Trelawney

  63. Remus Lupin / Sirius Black

  64. Harry Potter / Hermione Granger

  65. Luna Lovegood / Ginny Weasley

  66. Fleur Delacour / Nymphadora Tonks

  67. Hermione Granger / Draco Malfoy

  68. Remus Lupin / Severus Snape

  69. Harry Potter / Ginny Weasley

  70. Hermione Granger / Severus Snape

  71. Narcissa Malfoy / Bill Weasley

  72. Remus Lupin / Nymphadora Tonks

  73. Hermione Granger / Draco Malfoy

  74. Narcissa Malfoy / Bill Weasley

  75. Harry Potter & Cedric Diggory

  76. Severus Snape / Nymphadora Tonks

  77. Severus Snape / Nymphadora Tonks

  78. Harry Potter / Hermione Granger

  79. Ron Weasley / Pansy Parkinson

  80. Severus Snape / Sybill Trelawney

  81. Severus Snape / Sybill Trelawney

  82. Ron Weasley / Pansy Parkinson

  83. Pansy Parkinson / Nymphadora Tonks

  84. Pansy Parkinson / Nymphadora Tonks

  85. Harry Potter & Ron Weasley

  86. Lucius Malfoy / Narcissa Malfoy

  87. Pansy Parkinson / Nymphadora Tonks

  88. Hermione Granger / Remus Lupin

  89. Severus Snape & Luna Lovegood

  90. Hermione Granger / Severus Snape

  91. Harry Potter / Fleur Delacour

  92. Hermione Granger / Draco Malfoy

  93. Molly Weasley / Severus Snape

  94. Molly Weasley / Severus Snape

  95. Harry Potter / Nymphadora Tonks

  96. Hermione Granger / Pansy Parkinson

  97. Hermione Granger / Draco Malfoy

  98. Harry Potter / Ginny Weasley

  99. Hermione Granger / Viktor Krum

  100. Severus Snape / Nymphadora Tonks

  101. Severus Snape / Sybill Trelawney





	2. Let’s Get You Home

She didn’t suspect that her masculine, cold-as-ice co-worker would be, so, well, pathetic when he was ill. They didn’t not get along, but they didn’t exactly get along, either. They shared an office — which was, supposedly, temporary, but due to its large size and with the strategic placement of plants, Hermione Granger rarely had to see or interact with Draco Malfoy unless it was required of her. However, today, while she couldn’t see him, due to the growth of her latest plant-baby, she could hear him quite well. He was... groaning, maybe. Finally, she simply couldn’t help herself, she stood up from her exercise ball/chair, yes, of course, Hermione Granger used an exercise ball as a chair, smoothed her skirt, and moved around her desk, all her plants, and stood at the edge of Draco’s desk. 

Shockingly, he didn't comment on her appearance by his desk, this was probably due to the fact that he was doubled over in his pristine-leather chair. His head, resting almost between his knees was buried in his hands. He was groaning. His whole body seemed to ease and tense and then do it again. 

Hermione cleared her throat, "Erm…Malfoy? You sound miserable over here. Are you alright? 

He didn't say anything. Instead, he shook his head, "no". She knew something was definitely wrong with him then, for starters, he didn't say anything sarcastic and secondly, he'd just admitted that he was not okay. Admitting that he was anything less than perfect in all aspects of his life was not something she'd seen Draco do. 

"What's the matter then?" she inched closer to his desk, resting her fingers along the deep-cherry coloured wood. 

He reached his hand onto his desk and grabbed his wand. She wasn't sure what he was doing until she heard him mutter, " Accio Doctor's Note ". A slip of paper fluttered between them, she reached out and grabbed it, her eyes quickly scanning. 

"Oh, come off it, Malfoy!" She huffed at him, "It's just a kidney stone! Go home. Take the pain potion they gave you. Take the stone disintegration potion. Sleep it off. You'll survive."

Through gritted teeth, but still not looking up at her he said, "I. Cannot. Miss. Work. Granger." 

She placed her hands on her hips, Draco could hear her shuffle and he knew exactly how she was standing. Any moment and she'd start tapping her foot. 

Hermione tapped her foot against the wooden floor, "According to this note, you can miss two days of work. Kingsley will not care. He, like you, has a weird penchant for downing Muggle soda, and, not only will it give you cavities, it also tends to lead to kidney stones. Your body is doing what it's supposed to do. The healer even says it's perfectly normal." 

"Well, that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”

She sighed. She'd never had a kidney stone, but from her understanding of them, they were quite painful. She also understood Draco not wanting to miss work; he was as every much a perfectionist as she was, and he never missed a day. However, she knew he needed to go home and she also knew that she'd never get any work done if he were here groaning the whole time. 

Taking it upon herself to get him out of the office she flicked her wand and sent the note off to Kingsley. 

"Accio Draco Malfoy's Pain Potion!" 

Draco's body hurt so badly, and he was so nauseated that he didn't have the energy to stop her or to tell her she wasn't his mother or his boss. 

He heard the potion clink as she caught it in the air followed by her low heels clicking the floor until she was standing in front of him. She knelt down beside him, and he lifted his face just enough to meet her eyes. "You're going to take this potion. Once you've taken it, we are going to floo to your home. After that, you're going to take the disintegration potion and go straight to bed. The pain potion paired with the other will make you extremely drowsy; it's supposed to make the breaking of the stones easier. Do you understand?"

"Why do you know so much about everything?"

She let a small smile play on her lips and shrugged. Examining the potion bottle she said, "This is a very strong pain potion. Your stones must be massive. You're going to feel a bit...off quite immediately. But, we'll get you home, and I'll be in and out. You won't even know I was there." She uncorked the bottle and handed it to him, "Drink."

He took the bottle and tipped it back into his mouth. It tasted of bitter-cherries and he shuttered a little. Hermione stifled a laugh before standing up. She walked out of the room to inform a colleague what was going on, and by the time she walked back into the room, Draco was pain-free and giddy. She grabbed onto his arm, "Come on. Let's get you home." 

He stumbled a bit as he stood and she wobbled a little as he leaned against her a bit. Before they stepped into the fire he stopped and looked down at her, "You're quite beautiful, you know? I've wanted to tell you that for months now. In fact, I think everything about you is wonderful except for maybe your exercise ball chair. That is so ridiculous to me." He did a slow blink as if he were trying to steady his thoughts. "Alright. I need my bed. Let's go." 

Hermione stared at him dumbstruck, her mind whirling at the comment he'd just made as they stepped into the fireplace and how she was going to bring it up to him that he said it when he returned to work in two days.


	3. On Baking Puns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pansy Parkinson is determined to learn how to bake; Ron Weasley is happy to oblige.

Pansy Parkinson’s hands were covered in a yeasty, messy, sticky dough. She was certain that this was  _ not  _ the proper consistency for the bread she was trying to make. She was also quite certain that she hated cooking and baking. It was too chaotic and too temperamental. 

She’d decided, after one too many off-hand comments from her mother-in-law, that she was going to learn to cook and bake properly. Her husband was the one who did all the cooking and while she didn’t care too much for sweets, she did love bread, and Ronald Weasley made the best loaves of bread. 

Pansy had never attempted to do anything in the kitchen because Ron seemed to thoroughly enjoy it; he was really good at cooking and he was really outstanding at baking; she knew that, to Ron, it was very important that he had something he was exceedingly good at — he was better than her, better than Hermione, and Merlin knows he was better than Harry, but, most of all, he was on his way to being better than his mum. Pansy assumed this was because Ron only had Pansy and himself to cook for; Molly had had to cook for seven children, which meant it wasn’t always something she enjoyed but, often, something she just had to do. Molly’s comments on Pansy’s lack of participation in the kitchen had led to this moment — flour all over the countertops and floor and in her hair and a mess of something in the mixing bowl. Pansy shut her eyes and let out a slow breath before yelling, “Ronald. Please come here!” 

She heard the heavy footfall padding through the dining room as he made his way to the kitchen. He stood in the doorway of the kitchen, hands in the pockets of his trousers and smirked,“You’re quite a sight. What are you doing?” 

“Attempting to make bread.” 

“Just like that?” and he snapped his fingers as he said it. “Why?”

“Because your mother thinks I’m a completely incompetent wife because I don’t cook or bake and…” she squeezed the dough between her fingers, “I am not okay with anyone thinking I’m incompetent.” 

Ron stepped over to her, he glanced in the bowl and furrowed his brow, “You’re not incompetent. She’s just in a right state because Ginny won’t take her advice on how to take care of the baby now that he’s teething, and the dinner I made the other night was, well, better than her version of it. Ignore her. No one thinks you’re incompetent.” 

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, slightly untrusting of his words. She pulled her hands out of the dough and held them up for him to see, “What did I do wrong?” 

“Did you just decide to make this?” he inquired, and Pansy nodded her head. “So…” he began, “you didn’t have any starter?” Pansy scrunched up her nose and shrugged. Ron chuckled a little. 

She let out a heavy sigh, throwing her hands in the air, little flecks of sticky wet dough flew off of them and onto cabinets and one large clump landed on Ron’s cheek. “Forget it! Why do I bother? I’m a bother. Go back and finish the financial reports for the shop.” 

Ron chuckled again, and, with the back of his hand, wiped the dough off of his cheek before reaching out to tuck some of her hair behind her ear, “Baby, you’re not a bother. You could never be a bother.” 

She let her eyes flutter shut as she spoke, “I’m too needy, you don’t deserve it.” 

A wide-grin spread across Ron’s face. She looks enraged at his apparent delight, “What? Why are you smiling like that? I’m being serious!” 

He took his elbow and nudged her, “You’re being needy because you’re kneading bread, get it?” 

She let out a snort of a laugh and nudged him back with her hip. “You think you’re so clever, Ronald.” 

He shrugged and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in, and she smiled as he kissed her sweetly. After a few moments, he pulled away, glanced at the bowl and said, “I’ll be happy to teach you how to bake if you’d like. We can make a loaf of bread and bring it to Sunday’s dinner at my mum’s; how’s that sound? We’ll show her that she can’t be sour…” he paused, “dough!” He waggled his eyebrows at her and she rolled her eyes. 

“The first one was better.” 

He shrugged, “I know. But, what do you think?” 

Pansy reached up and ran her fingers through his hair, clumps of dough left in the strands of his hair, “I think you’re a-dough-rable.” His wide-lopsided smile spread across his face again in amusement. 


	4. Friendly Soulmates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus Snape and Nymphadora Tonks have an important chat.
> 
> This drabble stands alone, but it is part of [You -- Strange As Angels](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22697908)! If you enjoy these two, please check it out; it's a lot of fun.

It had been several weeks since Severus and Nymphadora discovered their interesting connection, which was the fact that they were, by an odd stroke of luck, soulmates. 

Severus believed fate was playing a cruel joke on him, as he knew that him having a soulmate was a fruitless endeavour. He knew that as the Dark Lord had officially returned it wouldn’t be long before he would begin living a double-life full of secrets and lies: He knew he was meant to be alone during all of this, and he wasn’t willing to bring Tonks into a romantic relationship — he just hadn’t worked up the nerve to tell her that yet. In fact, over the past few weeks, he had found himself becoming increasingly more selfish concerning his wants, and he had allowed himself to spend as much time with her as she was willing, indulging fully when they were together. 

Tonks was so unbelievably comfortable with herself, and this carried over into her sexuality. When they were alone, he found that she oozed it in everything she did; it was most arousing due to the fact that she wasn’t trying to do anything, she just  _ was, _ and, by being so, she made him feel as if he were a much younger man — one ho was constantly trying to control his erections and not cream in his pants every time she was around.

However, as the school year was approaching, he knew he had to discuss the terms of their relationship, ensuring that she understood that it was best that they were just friends, soulmates, yes, but just friends. 

He had avoided her for two days before he was supposed to see her at an Order meeting. He hated going to Order meetings, and he wasn’t exactly looking forward to it now. Walking into the meeting, he spotted her immediately — she was, as usual, flocked by the teenagers. She looked up as he entered and they made eye contact, her head tilting to the side just a tad as if to say, “What’s up?” 

The sight of her made his heart hurt; he had missed her more than he realized, and what he missed the most was her singing. He wondered perhaps if this conversation went the way he wanted it to, he could convince her to tell him what she was singing on a daily basis, so he could find a way to listen, too. At that moment, he realized perhaps that was too much to ask of her...too weird. He’d concern himself with that later.

Tonks stood up, excusing herself from the teenagers, and made her way over to him. “Hello, Sev.” 

He nodded and a small smile along his lips, “Hello. How are you?” Tonks shrugged, “I’m alright. It’s been a lonely few days.” 

Again, he nodded, “Yes. We need to talk. Come with me to the other room.” He gestured his head towards the library. 

She shook her head, “No. We’re not going to talk about this now. ” 

He raised his eyebrows in surprise, “I think we need to.” 

She bounced her head back and forth in thought, “Yes. We do need to speak. But, not right now. Not here. Meet me at my flat later. Plus, I know what you’re going to say, anyway.” 

Once again, his eyebrows raised, “You do?” 

She laughed a little, “Of course I do, Sev. And, I agree. Things are about to get…” she paused, “weird and difficult. Romance makes things even harder, so friendship it is.” She put a hand on her hip and with her other hand poked him in the chest, “No more snogging’, you horny bastard.” 

Severus laughed with relief. He hadn’t lost her, not yet anyhow.


	5. Beer Pong Champion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus and Tonks play a drinking game.
> 
> This drabble stands alone, but it is part of [You -- Strange As Angels](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22697908)! If you enjoy these two, please check it out; it's a lot of fun.

“What do you mean you’ve never played beer pong?” 

Severus let out a deep sigh and shrugged emphatically, “How in the bloody hell am I supposed to have played beer pong? I don’t know much about Muggle drinking games. Why do you  _ know _ so much about them?”

Tonks grinned mischievously at him, “I have, on a few occasions, in my younger years…” Snape scoffed at the phrase “younger years” she was only twenty-three, “I snuck into a few parties; they’re always so crowded, no one realizes they don’t know you. Anyway, and I’d use my skills as a witch to wreak harmless havoc.” 

Severus chuckled, his deep-throated laugh, much less rusty sounding now that they’d been spending so much time together, but his laugh still caused a warmth to spread in her chest and down into her belly.

“So,” he asked, “You used your magic to lure-in and manipulate young men?” 

She got up from the couch they were sitting and walked towards her kitchen, she shrugged and glanced at him over her shoulder, “Yes. I still do that though, now just with much older men.” 

Walking back in from the kitchen she carried four cans of beer and a stack of pink-plastic cups. She loved the pink Solo cups that were sold around the Easter holidays, and she always kept them just because of the colour. She transfigured her coffee table into a much taller table and with another flick of her wand set up the cups, poured the beers, and, then, transfigured one of her coasters into a ping-pong ball. 

“Okay! So, here is how you play…”

Tonks was thrilled; she was going to demolish Severus at this and she was going to get him properly smashed and then ask him all sorts of bizarre questions. She was absurdly excited.

She tossed the ping-pong ball over to him, “You can go first.” 

He fiddled with the plastic ball between his fingers, rolling his eyes as he tossed it. It landed directly into the centre cup. He kept a straight face, but, it was absurdly hard to do so, as Tonks gasped, “What the fuck, Sev? That has got to be beginner's luck.” She, flustered, tossed the ping-pong ball his way, it bounced, he caught it and tossed it directly back into one of her cups. 

Two beers down for her. Zero for him.

Not much time passed before she had emptied all but one of her cups; she felt thankful, she had only half-filled them with beer. As he tossed the ball and it fell with a “plop” into her last beer, she threw her hands up in the air, flung them behind her, leaned forward and hissed, like a cat, at him. 

Severus could no longer contain his laughter, he doubled over, coming up to say, “Did you just hiss at me, Nymphadora?”

She chugged her last cup of beer, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and replied, “Are you judging me?”

  
He shook his head, “Merlin, no. You’re wonderful.”


	6. Of Broken Arms and Sewing Scissors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly and Arthur argue over Arthur’s decision to take young Bill to a Muggle healer.

“Arthur Weasley, I cannot believe you! How  _ dare _ you take our child to a Muggle healer! His arm is broken; he is five years old! Now it’s in some...some...weird plaster cast thing? I don’t even know what its purpose is. He needs Skele-Gro! We don’t know what type of damage was done today. Is it reversible? Will Healer Doggins be able to repair it? Hmm? Do you have any idea? Do you? What were you thinking?” 

"Molly, we were at the park. There was a Muggle healer office right there. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Especially because I had both boys with me. You know how wild Bill and Charlie can get.”

She had gotten up from their bed, and walked over to her sewing table. She sat down at it and picked up a shirt of Charlie’s she had meant to mend earlier. The boys were asleep, and Molly and Arthur’s voices were low and hushed. Molly's anger surged at her husband. He towered over her, but as her anger bubbled beneath her soft exterior, he grew just a teensy bit afraid of her, and also a teensy bit aroused. She got red-faced when angry, a blush grew from the middle of her cleavage, exposed in her cotton night-gown, and ran up to her ears. 

"You don't know what could have happened there. How did you even have paid for it? We don't have any Muggle money! We know nothing about Muggle healers. Dammit, Arthur. Can I not trust you with our children?" Rage consumed her and she picked up a small pair of sewing scissors, they were maybe two inches long — she turned and chucked them several feet away into the trash bin.

"Oi! Molly! What are you doing?”

"Don't yell at me like I'm a child!"

"I’m not, but don't throw scissors!" 

“They were rubbish!” she took a deep breath and said in a low voice, “I have been meaning to throw them out, anyhow.”

“Now is not the best time to be throwing things out, Mols. Not when you’re mad. You’ll regret it tomorrow. You remember that time you threw out my old t-shirt, the one you used to sleep in all the time. You’ve regretted it ever since.” 

“It had just the right amount of holes.”

“Yes! They were in all the best places, too. That one under your arm you could practically see your entire right breast. My favourite shirt. Gone.” 

She smirked, “Well, looking at them, the scissors, I mean, in their dull state, the fact that they could barely cut through thread, it made me angrier. They had to go.”

Feeling the tension shift slightly in the room, Arthur knowing Molly had calmed down, knowing she wasn’t as angry as she initially seemed, he walked over to her and put his arm around her waist. He knew that, now that she was pregnant with their third child, she was prone to overreaction, and she was, naturally, a worrier. She would have been better off having all girls — not a brood of rambunctious wild Weasley boys.

“Molly, darling, Bill’s arm is going to be fine. We can take him to Healer Doggins tomorrow. See what he thinks. If he thinks we need to take the cast off and use a magical way of healing, then we will. There’s nothing wrong with trying different approaches to medicine. It’s important that we explore all our options with our children — even the Muggle ones. We don’t know that they aren’t better than our own.”

He felt her shoulders relax, she looked up at him and nodded, “You’re right. We’ll see what he says. Plus Charlie does seem to think the cast is, what word did he use?”

  
“Edgy, I think.” 

  
“Edgy. Hmm. Where did our two year old learn the word edge?”

Arthur shrugged, “Who knows. All I know is this third baby, I hope that he or she is a bit calmer, more of a rule follower. You know?” 

Molly chuckled, “Yes. Well, they get all their bad behaviour from you.”

  
“Me?” Arthur gawked at her, “Molly Prewitt Weasley. You are just as prone to breaking the rule as I am.” 

She smirked at him and leaned up to kiss him on the cheek, “Let’s go get a snack from the kitchen. I’m starving.” 


	7. Cigarettes and Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus Snape finds Sybil Trewlaney on the balcony of the north tower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This drabble stands alone, but it is part of [On Grounding Properties](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23050558)! If you enjoy these two, please check it out!

Severus Snape knew where to find her. He heard the news from McGonagall at dinner: Umbridge was going to fire and then kick Sybill Trewlaney out. 

Snape had waited until he knew students were in bed and he had completed his rounds. He did half a loop more than necessary and made his way up to the north tower. He knew she wouldn’t be in her rooms or her office; she’d be outside, on the balcony of the tower. _Of course, she’ll be outside when it’s fucking freezing._ He thought to himself as his long legs made their way up the steps. 

He opened the door and stepped out into the evening. She was leaning against the ledge. _She is barely clothed. What the hell? Bizarre woman. Merlin. Maybe Umbridge isn’t wrong about sacking her._ Her hair was down and long waves of dirty-blonde hair rested several inches below her shoulder blades, but her arms were bare in a dark-blue satin nightgown Snape had come to know quite intimately. She did, at least, pull on a pair of boots, it seemed. 

She had her chin resting against the fist of her left hand, and a cigarette in her right. Before he even acknowledged her, she said, without moving her head, “Would you like a smoke, Severus?” 

He stood next to her, placing his hands on the cold stone. “Aren’t you freezing, Sybill?” He looked down at her out of the corner of his eye — he could see goose pimples on her arms and her jaw of chattering slightly. 

Without looking at him, she took a drag from the cigarette, “No. I’m fine.” She extended her hand up in his direction, and he took the cigarette from her. He eyed it, considered putting it out on the ledge, and thought, _Fuck it,_ and took a drag from it. He knew it was unlikely that he could actually taste her on the cigarette, but he felt like he could — he thought he tasted the sweetness of sherry. 

“I heard about Umbridge.” 

“Ohhhhh. I’m sure everyone has. That’s not a surprise.” 

“She’s a foul beast.” 

Sybill snorted a laugh, and Severus noted, again, that she was shivering. “Look, I know you’re cold. Take my cloak, at least?” 

Their relationship was complex, and Severus knew both of them took issue with either of them showing affection to the other — or showing anything that illustrated that their relationship was more than just sex. He also knew that being up here with her now broke that rule altogether. “Don’t look at it as a gesture of kindness. Look at it as a selfish act. I’m trying to protect my reputation. I can’t be caught up here with you half-naked.” He unhooked his cloak and flung it around her shoulders. 

  
She shrugged it off and handed it back to him, “I told you, I’m not cold.” 

He looked up towards the sky, “Why are you so difficult, _Trelawney_?”

“I’m not. It’s good to push your bodies to certain extremities, _Snape_. We’re so coddled by everything. It does us good to be very cold as well as very hot. I’m fine; I like the way it feels when I go back inside. I like how the sudden heat makes my body tingle.” 

He cleared his throat at this, trying not to imagine her going back to her rooms, taking off her boots and woolen socks, sliding her slip off over her head, stepping into her clawfoot bathtub. He was here to let her know she had an ally in him, not just a fuckbuddy. “I have somewhere you can stay when Umbridge forces you out.”

“Oh, Severus." She sighed. Both of them were becoming increasingly aware of the budding tension of emotion growing. "Umbridge won’t be able to force me out. Can she stop me from teaching? Yes. But she can’t remove me from Hogwarts.”

Snape furrowed his brow, “How can you be so certain?”

“Dumbledore won’t let me lea— well, he won’t allow her to do what she intends to do.”

She turned toward him, his brow had furrowed deeper as if he was trying to solve a riddle. Pushing herself up onto her toes, she touched her index finger to his brow and allowed her finger to run down the length of his nose before finally pressing her finger to his lips. She whispered, "You're not the only one with secrets." 

She smiled warily at him and turned. Leaving him with his cloak in hand and shivering on the balcony of the tower.


	8. Speculative Articles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione Granger shares an article in The Daily Prophet with Viktor Krum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This drabble, while it stands alone, will, inevitably become a part of my much larger WIP -- [We Were Strangers Many Hours](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21780457/chapters/51969877)! If you enjoy these two, please check it out!

Hermione Granger sat on the couch in the staff lounge at Ilvermorny with her feet tucked underneath her. Opposite her was Viktor Krum, his legs spread out in front of him, feet resting on the coffee table. She was reading the Daily Prophet; he was flipping through a Quidditch magazine. 

They had grown comfortable taking their afternoon lunch together. Chatting while they ate and using the remainder of the hour to read. 

Hermione had just finished explaining to Viktor her plan to move-up in the Ministry of Magic and work towards becoming Minister. She was a little off-put with how unenthused he seemed, but she tried to ignore it. As the conversation ended, she picked up a copy of The Daily Prophet, which she'd been having delivered here. Viktor had read the paper when it came in this morning, and he wasn't looking forward to one particular article he knew she was going to come across. 

As expected, Hermione began to read aloud. Viktor had grown used to this and expected it when she read The Daily Prophet. Whenever something fascinated or infuriated her, she tended to read it to him without prompt or warning. 

_Where Is Krum and What Is He Doing?_

_Reportedly, Viktor Krum has moved to The United States of America. There are many different theories as to why the ex-Quidditch heartthrob would uproot himself and abandon Europe. The most popular of theories being that he has gone to recruit and motivate dark wizards abroad; small pockets of dark wizards are believed to be taking root in America, today._

_Viktor Krum attended Durmstrang, which was, at the time of Krum's attendance, run by Death Eater, Igor Karkaroff. Krum's lack of participation in the war has left many wondering where he was and what he was doing during this time. There was speculation that he and Hermione Granger, brains of the infamous Golden Trio, would reunite once the war ended — when this failed to happen, it raised the question of why the two had not reconnected. An unnamed source told the Daily Prophet that Hermione Granger "didn't feel comfortable around Krum anymore. Not after the war."_

_Has Viktor Krum gone to America to pursue the mission that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named failed?_

_Or, perhaps, more likely, Viktor Krum has run through all his options of women to scandalize in Europe and had to trot off to America to continue his womanizing._

_Whatever it is. Perhaps it's better that he's no longer here in Europe._

Hermione dropped the paper on her lap and looked aghast at Viktor. He appeared to not be shocked or interested or even, really, paying attention. 

"Hello! Viktor! Did you hear that?"

He glanced at her and let out a deep sigh, "I'm telling you, I'm haunted. My past and things that aren't even really my past, just speculation of my past, they follow me everyvhere. I have been gone for vhat? Almost a year? I, err, cannot win. This is why I'm bad news. Especially for you, Future-Minister-for-Magic." The last few words were clipped with frustration, and he stood up and walked out of the room. 

Viktor knew he was being childish, but they had spent so much time lately reestablishing their friendship, taking things slow, and the news that she wanted to be Minister one day hit him hard — he knew that meant her leaving America and returning to Europe, and he knew he could never go back to Europe. So now, before it has really even begun, he was faced again with the inevitable fact that he was going to, once again, lose her. 

With a flick of her wand Hermione sent the newspaper into the trash can, and let out a heavy sigh, as she watched him exit the room.


	9. Aforementioned Boyfriend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione Granger, busy as ever, is missing her, erm, boyfriend, Severus Snape.

She burst into his office as if she owned the place. She always did this, and while he was  _ always _ annoyed by it, he, also,  _ always _ loved it. When she came in, she was nothing but wild hair— curls sprung out in every direction. Her wand was stuck behind her ear, and occasionally there were bits of things in her hair, bits of torn up parchment, feathers from a quill, stains of ink, or remnants of potions. 

Hermione worked as an Unspeakable, so, well, she never mentioned what she did all day, but, somehow, she still managed to tell him copious amounts of things without ever actually telling him anything she wasn’t supposed to. 

Today, a Friday, she came in later than usual, and she was in a rare form. She was quite irate about something, but Severus, admittedly, had stopped listening. He hadn’t intended to; he wasn’t trying to be rude, but he found that he was entangled up in her as if her hair had reached out in soft-snarls and grabbed him— wrapped him up in its chestnut spirals and held him captive. He had known for some time that he was in love with her, that his feelings for her went far beyond that of friendship. Yes, they had kissed on several occasions but he didn’t think--he wasn’t about to presume--that it actually meant anything more to her.

Severus had been thinking about the softness of her lips against his jaw, the scent of vanilla and parchment, as he buried his face in the crook of her neck, how her…

“I just wanted an easy day with my boyfriend? Is that too much to ask? Obviously! Because of course, Doormat-Granger can come into work at 5 am on bloody Saturday!”

Severus stared at her with his mouth hung open just a smidge. Hermione didn’t seem to think anything of the word she just used, but Severus? He did.

He cleared his throat. His palms were getting clammy, and he rubbed them against his trousers, “Boyfriend? I wasn’t aware you had a boyfriend?”  _ Perfect _ , he thought.  _ Best way to play it off. Don’t presume you are the aforementioned boyfriend.  _

He internally grinned as he saw a blush creep up her neck and flood her cheeks a beautiful red. “Oh! Well, I know we haven’t put a label on anything, but in my head I just, well, refer to you as my boyfriend. It helps me to sort everything out. Harry and Ron? Friends. No snogging. Severus Snape? Boyfriend. Lots of snogging and things.”

Severus raised his eyebrows, “And things?”

She nodded, “Yes! Things! And now I’ve got to work.” 

“Not tonight you don’t.”

“Oh? Do you have something planned?”

  
“I do believe I’m having dinner and maybe doing some other  _ things _ with my...girlfriend.” 


	10. In Which Ron Discovers The Beatles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron and Hermione share an early morning dance.

Ron and Hermione had found a lot of interesting (to Ron) and sentimental (to Hermione) things in her parent’s storage unit one weekend in July. 

Hermione hadn't quite cracked the code on reversing the memory charm, but thought perhaps sorting through their old things could help her to not only heal and grieve her potential loss, but it might also help her to figure out some trigger she could use to help with their memories when the time came.

Ron had taken a liking to Hermione's father's record player, as well as his record collection, specifically, The Beatles. Ron had also been having a hard time sleeping. In all of this, he felt the responsibility to keep a happy face. He'd been working with George. He'd been visiting his mum a lot — letting her teach him how to cook. He was happy the war was over, even with the losses, and he was happy to have the life he had, but sleep, still, evaded him often. 

He had taken to casting a silencing spell on their small living room and turning on Hermione's dad's records on the night’s he couldn't sleep: This week he had  _ Abbey Road  _ on rotation. 

Ron slept from 10 pm-2 am fine, but, when he woke up to see their clock reading 2:12 am, he knew he wasn't going back to sleep. He glanced at Hermione who was sleeping on her hands, pressed together as if in prayer, and he silently slipped out of their bed. He knew he didn't have to be so quiet; Hermione slept hard, but he still moved gingerly as he got up. 

He turned on a small table lamp, cast a silencing charm, grabbed some pumpkin juice from the kitchen, a croissant he'd made the day before, and settled onto the couch to enjoy The Beatles.

Around 4:30 am, Ron was looking through some Quidditch magazines when Hermione came into the living room, shuffling her bare-feet sleepily. 

The way Hermione looked always amazed Ron, but how she looked when she first woke up enthralled him: Her hair was always frizzed out and sticking up in random places; her eyes were puffy, and her lips and cheeks were swollen. Her favourite clothing to wear was one of his older Chudley Cannons t-shirts, it was faded, the material thinning, it hit right below her arse cheeks, and Ron knew beneath the t-shirt was a pair of navy blue boyshorts, a pair he’d happily slid-off, peeking up at her between her legs the night before. 

"'Ello, gorgeous. Why are you awake right now? It's Saturday. You should crawl back into bed, you deserve a lie-in.” 

She shrugged and sat next to him on the couch, cuddling in close to him. “I just woke up. I can tell I won’t be able to go back to sleep.” He ran his hand over her shoulders and down her arms, squeezing her and gently pulling her into him. “I’m sorry, love. Do you want to talk about it?” 

He felt her shake her head “no” against his chest. He would ask her again about it later, about whatever it was that woke her up — he assumed it was a nightmare, but he knew she wouldn’t be truly willing to talk about it until the afternoon after she was further removed from it. 

He ran his fingers down her arm for a few moments.“Hey! I have something I want you to hear.” Pulling away from her gently he stood up and walked over to the record player. He flipped the vinyl and placed the needle at the beginning of the record.

The song “Here Comes the Sun” by The Beatles began playing. Hermione smiled softly at him, she knew this song; her father had loved it. 

He turned the volume up and yelled, characteristically Ron, “This song, Hermione? This is what we all need right now. You know?” He began to dance — his long limbs goofy and ungraceful; he danced over to her on the couch and lifted his hand out towards her. “Dance with me.” 

She giggled as he jerked his knees and arms in odd directions, his red hair moving across his face, his smile broad. Taking his hand she stood up with him and hesitantly moved; Hermione sometimes took herself a bit too seriously — too seriously to dance silly in front of anyone, even Ron, but, in that moment, she ceased to care. She, too, moved her hips, swaying her head back and forth and letting her hair fly about her face. 

The song ended and moved into “Because” which found Hermione pressed against Ron, his hand in hers, his arm wrapped around her waist, the pair moving slowly but forward together. 


	11. Just Cream, Already

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pansy lends a hand to Hermione.
> 
> Note: This drabble is explicit/lemony.

Hermione Granger didn’t exactly enjoy sharing a room with Pansy, but she was. That was that. Hermione had tried really hard to get along with Pansy in the beginning, but Pansy was cool and distant. She wasn’t exactly cruel to Hermione, but when they did speak she was sarcastic and cynical. Most of their bickering came from the fact that Pansy was neat and orderly and was constantly getting on to Hermione about her mess. Hermione didn’t have a mess, she had a lot of things scattered in an orderly fashion. Pansy was just a minimalist, that was all, and Hermione enjoyed her things. 

They finally settled into a routine, and things were going along alright for the pair. They had refined the art of ignoring one another as best as they could. The issue came when Hermione found herself sneaking glances at Pansy when she was lying in her bed reading or when she was sitting at her desk or when she was changing clothes or worst when she came in from the shower wrapped in a towel and her black hair wet. When Pansy came in from her shower, her pale skin was flushed just-so, a very light hue of pink; her hair wet was often slicked back and tucked behind her lovely ears; droplets of water would curve around her toned calves; Hermione at first thought she was envious of Pansy’s body. Hermione was shorter, curvier, less-toned, with freckles and small scars and ridiculous hair, but Hermione wasn’t envious, she was enamoured by it and she was, as she learned when her abdomen grew with heat and she pooled between her legs, attracted to it — deeply so. 

After a certain amount of time, Hermione couldn't take it anymore. Once she was certain Pansy had fallen asleep, Hermione slipped off her panties and slid her fingers over her slick entrance. Circling her clit clockwise and then counterclockwise, Hermione involuntarily bucked hips and used her other hand to slip a finger inside her tight sex. For some reason, she kept finding herself on the precipice of having an orgasm and then it would dissipate. She was certain it was the fact that Pansy was right there, the fact that she was overly conscious of her breathing— stopping herself from moaning, worried her bed was creaking or there was too much shuffling around. Finally, from out of the silence Hermione her Pansy whispered with venom “Just cream, already. For fuck’s sake. This is absurd.” 

Hermione felt her blood boil with embarrassment and with anger at Pansy. She was beside herself and she spat the words, “Why don’t you just come over here and make me, then.”

To Hermione’s horror  _ and  _ delight, she heard Pansy get out of her bed and felt the weight of her own bed shift. In the dark room it was hard to make her out, but she saw her silhouette closing in on her. Pansy whispered, her lips hot and warm against her ear, “Would you like for me to make you come, Hermione?” Pansy had her hand hovering just above Hermione’s lower abdomen, she wasn’t touching her, not yet. Hermione involuntarily whimpered at Pansy’s words. 

She nodded and with not much above a whisper said, “Yes. Please.” 

Without a second of hesitation, Pansy rested her hovering hand on her and trailed her hand down between Hermione’s legs, meeting Hermione’s hand there. She trailed her fingers over Hermione’s, which were still sunk into her pussy. With her other hand, Pansy cupped Hermione’s cheek and kissed her with intensity. Hermione kissed her back with furry and hunger— tasting her tongue and her lips. Pansy pushed on Hermione’s hand, prompting Hermione to continue to fuck herself; she then grabbed Hermione’s other hand and rested it on her own thigh. 

Hermione saw this as an invitation to touch Pansy, and she was happy to do so. Pansy straddled Hermione’s leg while Hermione slipped her fingers into Pansy soaked slit. Pansy began, “You need to be properly aroused. You need to feel like you’re on fire.” Pansy took the hand Hermione was fucking herself with and brought it to her lips, licking and tasting her new lover. 

Watching Pansy made Hermione thrilled; her nipples were taut against her t-shirt, her pussy was throbbing with ache, her breath was heavy. Pansy slipped her fingers inside Hermione and began to pump them into her, curling them back inside her, and circling her clit with the pad of her thumb. She didn’t mean to, but Hermione had stopped touching Pansy; she couldn’t possibly move her fingers, as she felt like she couldn’t move anything; her whole body felt heavy with arousal and her growing orgasm. 

When Pansy leaned over Hermione, grinding her wet pussy against Hermione’s leg, and catching one of Hermione’s nipples in a gently bite, Hermione didn’t just fall over the edge and into her orgasm, she was pushed over— she was falling. 

Pansy slowed what she was doing and slid off of and next to Hermione in her small twin bed; the women’s bodies pressed together. Pansy kissed Hermione again, slower this time, and Hermione whispered, “I want to make you come now.” 

Pansy grinned at her, “You’ve made come many times before.” Hermione felt her face flush and Pansy laughed a little, “Before you make me come, I’m going to make you come again; this time on my face.” Before those words, Hermione had thought she was exhausted and could have easily fallen asleep, but she felt her pussy ache and leaned in to kiss Pansy again. 


	12. Not Your Best Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape is missing Tonks, so he goes out to find her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This drabble stands alone, but it is part of [You -- Strange As Angels](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22697908)! If you enjoy these two, please check it out; it's a lot of fun.

It was mid-November. Severus Snape was exhausted and tired and hated Dolores Umbridge, Albus Dumbledore, and Lord Voldemort. Nymphadora Tonks was exhausted and tired and she didn't hate anyone but she was starting to really dislike Snape. 

They had decided that, yes, they were soulmates—but, no, it wasn't a good idea to be romantic. Had they kissed? Over the summer several times. Had they seen one another? Over the summer several times. But the school year had begun. 

He was busy. She was busy. 

She, however, had tried to make time for him, but he simply hadn't been available. Now, it seemed he was, after a solid two months of being left high and dry, but Tonks, although not a bitter or cruel person, had grown a bit weary from it all. 

Snape found her at  _ their  _ pub. She hadn't returned his owls. She wasn't at home. He was a bit worried about her, and he was feeling quite desperate to see her. He spotted her at a table, eating chips and drinking a soda. It wasn't late, so the pub wasn't crowded yet. 

He approached her, "Tonks."

She looked at him and furrowed her brow, "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

"Come off it, Nymphadora. It's not been that long."

"Mmmmmmmm." she made a face and shrugged before popping another chip in her mouth. 

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah?" her eyebrows raised and she sounded sceptical.

"Yes. I miss you. I want my best friend back. It's been a long few months. Life is just…"

The words  _ best friend _ irritated her. She gestured towards the bar, "Yeah, well, Kevin is over there. Go talk to him.

"What are you on about?"

She got up from the hightop and stood in front of him. She looked tired, and, he realized, she looked sad; he'd never seen her look sad before. She let her arms drop by her side in defeat, "I'm not your best friend, Sev. I'm your  _ soulmate.  _ There's a difference. Even if we pretend like there isn't. With a friend, you can go months and not see them, not communicate with them because you're busy. With a soulmate, with  _ me,  _ it hurts."

He watched her as she left the pub. He hadn't realized what he had done. He had neglected her without considering he was doing so. He was so used to only concerning himself with himself that he'd forgotten what ill-effects could be had on others. 

Moments later, he found herself outside of her flat, knocking on the door. 

She opened the door, "You can still use the floo."

"I didn't know if you wanted me to."

She took in a deep breath and sighed, moving and motioning for him to enter her home.

He stepped in and stepped close to her. He put his arm around her waist and pulled her to him, resting his other hand on her cheek. "I have missed you. I was wrong not to be more in touch. To not see you. Or explain to you the things going on. There's so much going on. You. Tonks. You're the only light in my life."

She felt tears swelling in her eyes, "Severus, I cannot. I cannot be  _ just _ your friend. I cannot just be a convenience for you to make you feel better when you're down. I have to consider my own feelings here. I spend a lot of time taking care of others, and, Merlin, I want to take care of you more than anyone, but I have to do what's best for me. And if you're going to…"

He interrupted her, "I'm not. You're right what you said. We're not just friends. We can pretend. But it's not that simple. It never will be."

She nodded, "What are you saying then? Is this over? Friendship and all?"

He took a gulp, he knew he should answer  _ yes _ , for her safety in the long run. "Is that what you want?"

She shook her head  _ no. _

He suppressed a small smile, as his inner-turmoil was nagging at him.  _ How are you going to keep her safe when he is fully powerful again? You just will, dammit. You just will. _

"Good. Neither do I. I want you. All of you. You  _ are _ my best friend. Not bloody Kevin. Whomever that bloke is. But you are also my soulmate. You are … you mean the world to me." With those words he bent down and kissed her, feeling as if he was truly kissing her for the first time.


	13. A Much Needed Shower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione catches Draco in the faculty spa in a compromising situation
> 
> Note: This drabble is explicit/lemony.

After a long day of teaching, Hermione enjoyed going to the faculty/staff spa and gym to relax. She loved to swim laps in the icy pool and then sit in the sauna before showering and returning to her rooms. 

  
Hermione had thought, due to the late hour, that no one else was using the facilities. After her swim and her time in the sauna, she dropped the small white towel that was wrapped around her and stepped into the showering area. The moment her feet heat the tile she heard the water of a shower being run and she heard a moan, she went to turn but then she heard the most interesting thing. She heard her name come from a voice that almost never called her by her first name. A voice that only spat out her surname with disdain,  _ Granger.  _

Her curiosity was piqued, what was she to do? What would anyone have done? She wasn’t trying to hide her presence and she turned the corner to find Draco Malfoy leaning against the tile, water pounding his back, droplets trailing down his broad shoulders, his chest-hair, a slightly darker blonde than his platinum, which trailed down his slim waist sparsely. Hermione’s eyes followed his body down and saw his hand wrapped around and tugging his rather large erection. Her name, again, slipped from his lips, which, she thought was his acknowledgement of her presence, and so she gasped quite loudly at being caught at watching him stroke himself so tenderly — gasp at being caught nude in front of Malfoy with her sex now glistening with arousal. Upon her gasp Draco’s eyes flew open, shock tore across his face, Hermione thought she saw the faintest flush of pink upon his cheeks. He floundered a bit at first before he spoke, “H-how long have you been standing there?” 

Hermione cleared her throat and despite her initial embarrassment, her initial worry, she realized she had the upper hand. She straightened her posture a little, “Long enough.” 

“I..I just…”

“Why did you say my name?”

“It was an accident. I would never say your name. I don’t  _ like _ you, Granger.” 

“You said it twice, I believe.” She stepped closer to him. She felt glorious with power at the moment. “And…” she looked down at his still hardened cock, “You appear to like me quite a bit.” She stepped an inch closer and watched as his cock twitched. Their eyes met and she smirked.

“Well, you….” he hesitated, he was absolutely flushed now.

She reached out her hand, she let it hover around his cock. It would take her only a second to wrap her hand around it. 

She cocked her head to the side, she licked her lips, “Would you like me to help you with that, Draco?” She let his name slide slowly off her tongue. 

He looked down at her hand and then at her. He cleared his throat and said, “Is this a dream?” 

  
She shook her head, “Not at all.”

He swallowed hard, his heart was pounding in his chest, “Please. Please touch me…” he paused, “Hermione.” 

She smiled up at him and wrapped her hand around his cock with a tug. 


	14. Tea Chats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly and Remus have a chat over tea.

Molly Weasley sat down at her wooden kitchen table with a cup of tea for herself and a cup for Remus Lupin. Arthur was working late, all her children were off at Hogwarts, and Remus had become quite a frequent visitor in her kitchen. 

He ran his fingers through his hair, rubbed the scruff along his jaw, and let out a deep, tired sigh. 

“What is it, Remus? What’s bothering you?”

“I don’t know, Molly. I’m not sure…” 

“Is it what Dumbledore’s asked you to do? Is it Sirius? Is it…?”

“No. No, it’s nothing like that. It’s more... personal.” He looked down at the mug she’d handed him, and he fiddled with it while shuffling his feet against the floor.

“Oh! You’ve someone that you’re interested in! Please tell me that’s it, Remus. Please.” Molly was almost out of her seat with excitement. Molly loved love. She seemed to think that everyone needed what she and Arthur had, and Remus couldn’t lie to himself about it— he would have given almost anything to have a loving and vibrant relationship like they did, but he knew it would never ever happen for someone like him. 

Remus felt his face flush, was he that obvious? “No. That’s...that’s not it.” 

Molly leaned forward across the table and gave him “the eye”, which, as all her children knew, meant that she saw right through you. “You’re lying. You’re blushing.” 

“Molly!” He chuckled a bit, “Shut up! No, I’m not! I’m a grown man. I’m a werewolf, by Godric. I don’t blush.”

Molly took a finger and gently nudged his right cheek, “Oh. You blush, Remus Lupin. Out with it. Who is it? Do I know them?”

“Molly, it’s …”

Suddenly there was a loud pop, and Nymphadora Tonks appeared in the kitchen with Molly and Remus, “Molly. I need you. Today has been just absolutely amazing…” Tonks paused and noticed Remus, the blush still high in his cheeks, “Oh! Wotcher, Remus. Fancy seeing you again today.” She smirked and winked at him. Remus glanced at Molly and sputtered, “I best be off. Goodnight.” And, suddenly, he apparated out of sight, his tea still warm.

Molly glanced at the spot where Remus had been and back at Tonks, realization dawning on her.


	15. But, It's Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sybill has locked herself in her tower after Umbridge fired her from teaching; Severus hasn’t seen her in a month and finds that he misses her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This drabble stands alone, but it is part of [On Grounding Properties](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23050558)! If you enjoy these two, please check it out!

Severus Snape adored his time alone. He truly did, but, what he adored more, he found, was having his face buried between Sybill Trelawney's thick thighs. And, as of right now, he was lonely, and he missed her thighs and, although he was wary to admit it, he missed her.

Umbridge had given Sybil the boot; Dumbledore swooped in, and, as Sybil said he would, allowed her to stay, but she was shunned more than usual and he knew she was absolutely miserable in her tower when she wasn't teaching and tormenting students. She, like him, enjoyed fucking with them. He was cruel about it while her act of aimlessly predicting things was far more silly. But, he enjoyed it just the same: He liked seeing how she could throw students into a tizzy by saying the absolute vaguest things. No one really liked Sybil; everyone else saw her as below them. She was, after all, a fraud — or so they believed. She was also weird and eccentric, and she didn't really try to get along with anyone either, but Snape had  _ always _ been drawn to her. While respected among his colleagues, he, too, was alone. They shared that, too. 

It'd been a month since the fiasco with her and Umbridge, and Snape hadn't seen Sybil once. Not that he hadn’t wanted to, he tried, but she refused him and wouldn’t open her door. 

He was in a particularly lonely and aggravated mood when he made his way to the north tower just to check on her one last time. At least, that was what he was telling himself. Perhaps, she truly didn’t want to see him anymore; their relationship, or whatever it was, had started innocently enough half a year ago, well, as innocently as a purely sexual relationship with one's coworker during a time of war can be, that is, and maybe it was over now. He wasn’t convinced, though. He didn’t take Sybill for the type to just disappear. 

He rapped on the door to her quarters and after a few moments, he felt his breath catch when she slowly opened the door, peering at him through the crack. He saw that her glasses, a cat-eye shape with clear lavender rims, were pushed onto her head, tangled in her mass of wild dirty-blonde hair that was pulled up onto her head — strands falling out everywhere. If you didn't know Sybil, you'd think she looked dishevelled, but Snape did know Sybil, and he knew that she just looked like her normal self. He inwardly sighed with relief that she looked okay. 

“Are you going to see me now?” He asked, trying not to sound as desperate as he felt.

"No. I’m not talking to you.” She shut the door, but he knew she was probably still standing there on the other side, so he continued to speak.

“But, it’s  _ me _ ." He said in a frustrated whisper.

  
He heard her whisper back, “Yes. I am aware. Go away.” 

Snape pounded his fist on the wall beside the door in frustration, his voice rising above a whisper, be damned who might hear him, “You knew this was going to happen. You knew she was going to do this. You knew how everyone would react. You knew Dumbledore would hire the centaur. Why does any of this change things between you and me? Stop shutting me out. Stop acting so pitiful.”

She opened her door fully, she looked absolutely furious. “Come in here. Now. Before someone hears you yelling like an idiot.” Her voice was terse and snipped.

He looked around her living quarters. Same as usual. It was small, but it was fucking cozy. Maybe it was the incense she burned or all the candles or all the blankets and pillows and or the smell of lavender tea; whatever it was, Snape instantly felt …  _ good.  _ There was no other word to describe it. He was too confused at her outrage towards him, to berate himself for the fact that he felt better than he had in a month standing in her quarters than he ever did on his own.

She began to speak, and she flailed her arms about as she spoke and walked about the room. Her voice was doing that dramatic thing he and everyone hated: It was a voice he knew she used to put on a facade. He watched her, though, as she moved, she wore a dark blue satin slip, one of the straps was sliding off her shoulder. Around her shoulders was a thin rose coloured shawl that had beads that shimmered all over it. The slip clung to her breasts and pulled at her hips. Snape pulled his eyes away from her

"Why are you here, Severus? Did  _ she  _ send you? Or did  _ he  _ send you? Or did  _ the Dark Lord  _ send you? Am I being scolded again for something? Are you here to punish me? Or, better yet, are you here in hopes that I’ll prophesize something, again?” 

Suddenly, Snape understood. 

Dumbledore had told her. Dumbledore had told her that she had made a prophecy and that he, Snape, was the one who overheard her make it, all those years ago. 

“I knew…” She began, her voice strained as if holding back tears, “I knew this was, for both of us, very much a physical relationship, but I wasn’t using you. So, tell me,  _ who _ were you getting close to me for?”

“Sybill, that’s not…” 

“Please, just go.” She gestured towards the door he’d just stepped through, and she walked out of her living room and into her bedroom shutting the door behind her.. Severus felt his heart sitting in his stomach; he had never used her for a single thing, but it didn’t matter now. Dumbledore saw to that.


	16. [Heart Emoji]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione buys Severus a smartphone.

Hermione Granger, having one foot in the wizarding world and one foot in the muggle world did not necessarily believe that wizards had it 100% right. For starters, she thought using owls as a method of communication _ all the time  _ was a bit absurd. So, when she and Severus Snape developed a friendship and fell quickly and shockingly into a more romantic relationship, she couldn’t stand the process of owling him, and so, she took it upon herself to get Severus a smartphone.

She had very slowly introduced smartphones to all of her friends and many of her colleagues. She hoped, soon enough, to revamp the way The Ministry communicated: E-mail! Google calendar! It all would make everything so much easier. Sometimes, however, this meant she woke up to 100+ messages from her group chat with Harry and Ron which she labelled  **The Boys** along with the following emojis: a lion, a lighting bolt for Harry, and a turkey leg for Ron—the turkey leg just reminded her of him, and that was that. Usually, the two of them got on about quidditch or just cracked jokes back and forth, and she often found it annoying to be in the group chat, but she was happy she had this easy way of communication.

Severus was sceptical, but he didn’t completely write it off; he was also deeply unaware of most new muggle technology, and, so, she had a lot of work to do with him. 

“What’s this black rectangle on my desk, Hermione?” Severus yelled from his home office.

Hermione curled up on his couch reading, yelled back, “A smartphone.”

“A smart-what?” 

She let out a sigh of jesting exasperation, set the book on the cushion next to her, and walked into his office. With her hands on her hips, she stood in the doorway, “Phone. A smartphone. Honestly, Severus, it’s a much easier way to communicate. We’re adults. I don’t want to have to wait for an owl. Plus, what if I think of something interesting to say in the middle of the night, and I don’t want to forget it by morning? An owl would wake you up, whereas, with this, you can simply have it muted until morning. Then, you can lie in bed and scroll through the essay I’ve written while you were sleeping.”

Severus felt his head spinning: phone, muted, scrolling. What was he getting himself into? 

Hermione spent the entire afternoon showing him things: She put in her number, Draco’s, and Harry and Ron’s, much to his disliking. “Don’t worry,” she assured him, “I won’t give Harry your number. You will just have his in case you need it for some reason.” 

Severus gave her a look that said, “What could I possibly need Potter for?”

That evening she left for her own flat and left him alone with this weird, rectangular device. 

Moments after she left it chimed and a box popped up:

**Hermione** **(heart emoji) (otter emoji)** ** _:_** _I miss you already._

Severus looked down at the screen, he touched the back of it to unlock it, just like she had shown him, but he hit something else and now he was looking at himself. He made a face at his own face— a look of confusion and irritation. He moved his thumbs in a way that could be best described as flailing. One thing led to another and he’d somehow sent a picture of his stupid face to Hermione. He tossed the phone on the cushion but it wasn’t long before it chimed again. 

**Hermione** **(red heart emoji) (otter emoji)** ** _:_** _A selfie? You are hipper than we all give you credit for._

In her own flat Hermione’s phone chimed:

**Severus (green heart emoji)(vial of potion):** _ What is a selfie?  _

**Hermione** **(red heart emoji) (otter emoji):** _A picture of yourself. You just took a selfie._

Severus, again, tried to open his screen, it had taken him forever to type “What is a selfie?” He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to have a conversation on this godforsaken thing. He, again, snapped a photo of himself and sent it to her, this time, it was almost just a shot of the inside of his nostrils.

Hermione cackled with delight when she saw this picture and told herself that he was her boyfriend and she would not share this photo with Harry or Ron.

That evening he sent her at least ten different accidental selfies until she finally couldn’t take it anymore. 

**Hermione** **(red heart emoji) (otter emoji)** ** _:_** _By Godric, Severus. Control your thumbs! No more!_

He let a small smile play on his lips. 

**Severus (green heart emoji)(vial of potion):** _ That last one was intentional. But, okay, fine, I won’t send you anymore. I know I’m an ugly bastard. _

**Hermione** **(red heart emoji) (otter emoji)** ** _:_** _Oh. Shove off! Just be thankful your nostrils are clean. Here. I suppose I owe you one._

Lying on his couch, Severus raised his eyebrows in curiosity as he read her response. He was rewarded when the selfie she sent him appeared on his phone. He was beginning to think there was a lot of fun to be had with this smartphone. 


	17. The Perfect Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus Lupin takes a tour of Tonks’ flat and, realizes, “Holy fuck, I want to cook for this woman.”

They hadn’t been on an official date yet, Remus wouldn’t exactly agree to it, despite her protests that having mead in a pub was perfectly acceptable. He was terrified about what would happen to her reputation if someone saw them out in public together. He was also worried that being seen together would cause rumours that she was in the Order, and, seeing as how she wasn’t supposed to be in the Order as a Ministry worker, it could be an issue.

If truth be told, they hadn’t even really been on an unofficial date, either. They’d worked shifts together; they’d been at meetings together — these times felt sort of like dates because they spent the entire time sitting far-too closely, whispering back and forth, communicating with their eyes and expressions. Forming trust and a relationship with each eye-roll or smirk or the pressing of their legs together under the table. They felt, simply, as if they’d known each other their whole lives. While Tonks revelled in these feelings, Remus tried to ignore them. He liked to pretend that they didn’t exist when they were apart, but when they were together, the moment his eyes fell on her wavy pink hair and her denim jacket, it was unavoidable: He loved her. He had barely been around her; he’d never really been alone with her, he’d never even kissed her, but by Godric, if he didn’t love her. He loved everything about her— she made his heart simultaneously ache and swoon. 

He was strong-willed in many ways, but, despite how hard he tried, he was often quite weak when it came to Tonks. After one meeting, one where he found his hand, large and scarred and callused, resting on her knee, he accepted her invitation back to her flat. 

Remus took delight in seeing her flat. It was small and eclectically decorated— a nice mixture of wizard and muggle things. 

Admittedly, Tonks hadn’t expected Remus to take her up on her offer to come over. He didn’t usually hang around long after meetings or when they shared a shift. But, here he was, in her flat, and now she realized she should be a proper host.  _ Bollocks,  _ she thought.  _ What’s proper? _

“Would you like something to eat or drink?” she asked, shredding off her denim jacket and throwing it over the arm of a chair. She walked into her kitchen and peered into her very empty refrigerator, “I’ve got butterbeer, this lovely amber beer, a couple of cans of diet soda, and water. Oh! And tea, of course.”

He mused his options playfully and smiled at her, “I’ll try one of those  _ lovely  _ amber beers, then.” 

She smiled warmly back at him and handed him a bottle. They sat on her couch, close, but not too close and chatted for a bit. It was comfortable and awkward all at once. She was delightful in her weirdness; she had a loud laugh and she blushed so easily that it made Remus thankful it wasn’t near a full-moon; if it had been, he would have kissed her senseless the moment her blush ran up to her ears. 

“Would you like anything else to drink? I’d offer you something to eat, but, honestly, I don’t have much.”

“What do you have?” he inquired.

She sighed, looking a bit embarrassed, “Well, I’ve got some pizza rolls and cup o’ noodles. That’s about it. Popcorn? I think.” 

Remus’s mouth hung open slightly, “You have what? You know you’re a grown woman.” He smiled at her to let her know he was teasing.

Blushing again she covered her face with her hands, “I know! I’m just so busy all the time. Food goes bad. You know?’ 

“You do know you’re a witch, right? There are charms you can use.”

She peaked through her fingers at him, “I’m actually quite rubbish at any sort of household charm. I clean by hand, and I’ve tried cooking without magic, and I’m horrid at that, too. It’s just, you know, not my forte.”

A grin spread across his face, “Come on. Let’s go.” 

She raised an eyebrow, “Where are we going?”

He handed her jean jacket to her admiring the pins and patches as he did.. “We’re going to the market. Let’s pick out some stuff. I just so happen to be an excellent cook. I’m going to treat you to dinner. Here. In your own flat. Ah. That’s a terrible date, isn’t it?”

She shook her head, reached out, and grabbed his hand, interlocking their fingers. “No. It’s perfect.”


	18. Smoked Meat and Caesar Salads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Modern Non-magical AU) Severus and Sybill bicker over Severus' eating habits.

On a warm evening in August, Sybill found herself eyeing the waistline of her partner, as they walked downtown to dinner. He seemed to be putting on some weight, and, while she didn't care, she also began to think about his eating habits—realizing that now that he'd retired, he had become an atrocious eater. This concerned her, as she knew he already had high blood pressure, she was certain the new smoker he'd bought wasn't helping his sodium consumption. 

Having been married once before, she wasn't interested in doing it a second time, and Severus wasn't bothered by this fact. He didn't see what a piece of paper indicated his feelings or commitments. They'd both felt confident and assured in their feelings for one another. They had a home and a cat and intended to share the rest of their lives together—even if they did drive each other completely insane. 

As they sat at an outdoor table of one of their favourite restaurants, Sybill took it upon herself to casually suggest a change in his eating habits. 

"You know, Rolanda told me that the salad here is really good. Have you seen her lately? She is so unbelievably fit still; she certainly knows how to keep her athletic build." 

"Who goes to a restaurant and orders a salad, Sybbi?" Severus was still glancing over the menu as he spoke, even though he already knew what he was getting. He was going to get the brisket sandwich with a side of fries. He also intended to order the triple meat charcuterie board and a milk stout. Not to mention, he had seen on the board that tonight's dessert special was Fruity Pebble Cheesecake—God knows he  _ had _ to try that. 

"Lots of people, I suppose. Oh! Look, a nacho salad. That sounds interesting, yeah? It's like loaded nachos but with a spring mix and not corn chips," she raised her eyebrows with interest and looked at him over her clear-lavender rimmed glasses. 

Severus then looked at her from atop his menu. "That seems pointless. I wouldn't want a nacho salad; I want nachos with corn chips. Anyone who says otherwise is lying to themselves." He then went back to examining the menu. 

A waiter came, where Sybil ordered an orange cranberry Saison and Severus ordered his milk stout. She thought she'd try again, "This one seems interesting. A beet salad!"

"A beet salad? Does that honestly sound good to you? I mean, do I look like a fucking rabbit?"

She let her shoulders slouch as she laughed, "No. Actually, a beet salad sounds atrocious." 

"Why do you keep bringing up salads?" he inquired.

"It's just that...since you've retired, you've been eating poorly. So much smoked meat! I know you love that smoker, but you have barely touched a fruit or vegetable. I just don't want you to knock off too soon. You do have high blood pressure, Severus."

"Awww, Sybbi. You're worried about me. How darling of you." A wicked smile spread across his lips. 

"Don't mock me, you arse!" 

"I'm not. I'm sorry. You're right. My trousers  _ have _ been a bit tighter, but I do love that bloody smoker. It's like magic.”

She pouted a little and lifted her beer to her lips. Their waiter returned for their orders, Sybill went with the nacho salad; she did think  _ that _ one sounded delicious.

"And, for you, sir?" asked the waiter. 

"Mmmmm. I'll have the brisket sandwich…" Sybill rolled her eyes. 

"And as your side?"

Severus glanced at Sybill and with a deep breath, handing the waiter the menu, he said, "I'll have the Caesar salad."


	19. Champagne Celebrations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius and Hermione celebrate some good news.

Hermione Granger flung herself down at the table in Grimmauld Place. It was much nicer and happier now that the war was over and now that she and Sirius had spent several months emptying it out and doing a much more thorough cleaning than what time had allowed for several years ago. They’d made it their own, and both were quite happy with the turn out — the brighter, less depressing library; each had their own office; a large master suite. It was hard to believe it had been the dark depressing place it was years ago.

She smiled at Sirius who was sipping a cup of tea and reading; he always waited up for her when she had to work late, no matter how late it was. When she came home, she would find him sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea and a book— he’d always make her a cup to help relax her, but tonight? Tonight, she didn’t want tea. She reached into her bag and pulled out a bottle of very expensive champagne. She floated it over to him and it nudged him in the chest gently, "Open this."

He raised his eyebrows at her, "Can you say please? Please." A smile twitched at his lips as he spoke and with a flick of his wand, the metal twists holding the cork in place were being untied. He rested his thumb against the base of the cork and he looked at her. He lifted his eyebrows again, teasingly. “Are you going to say, please?” 

She shook her head, “Oh, no, Mr Black. Someone with my position at the ministry doesn’t  _ need  _ proper manners.” 

Sirius jumped up, holding out his arms to her, “You got the promotion?” 

She, too, stood up and let him swoop her into his arms, “I got the promotion!”

With his arms wrapped around her, he popped the cork off the champagne bottle, she felt the spritz from the pop spray against her skin and she laughed, “Aye! No wasting. That stuff was expensive.” 

  
She conjured two glasses from the cupboard, and Sirius shook his head and held the bottle close to her lips, “Drink straight from it, kitten.” 

She hesitated but took the bottle from him and tilted it back into her mouth, feeling the dry fizz against the back of her jaw, she swallowed the gulp and let out a small laugh. “I can’t believe I got the promotion.” 

He smiled widely at her, “I expected nothing less from the brightest witch of her age. My witch.” 

She handed him the champagne bottle and he took a swig from it. Swallowing, he placed his hand on the small of her back, letting it slide down to her arse where he cupped her and gently squeezed, “Now,” he began, “Let’s properly celebrate. I believe this champagne’s bubbles will feel quite lovely on that delicious clit of yours.” 

It didn’t matter how many times Sirius looked at her like she was a goddess, Hermione would always flush with excitement. She nodded with a shy grin, “I can’t wait to find out.” 


	20. Unspoken Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus and Sybill exchange goodbyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This drabble stands alone, but it is part of [On Grounding Properties](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23050558)! If you enjoy these two, please check it out!

Dumbledore was sending Snape into the clutches of Voldemort, and Trewlaney knew it. She knew it and she was furious with both men. She'd played her tarot cards out thousands of times, and while, yes most of them led to Snape's death, a handful didn't. She presented these scenarios time and time again to both men — both saw the flaws, although Snape was slightly more inclined as of late to go along with them. 

She wasn't sure what exactly it was that changed, but he has become more willing to play with the idea of living and what that might mean for him. Snape knew what had changed; he'd simply fallen far too in love with Sybill, and a very selfish part of him wanted to live. He began to, occasionally, toy with the prospect of a future life without Voldemort and Dumbledore and the war. He couldn't really imagine it, but he liked to imagine himself imagining it. 

However, when the three of them last met, Dumbledore called them out. He informed them that their foolish teenage-emotions would destroy his carefully crafted plans and potentially cost them the war. Sybill left the meeting without a word to either man. She refused to see Severus. He sent her note after note, knocked on her door— he practically pleaded with her to see him before he left, that he feared he wouldn't return, that this could be the end of it for him. 

The night before he was set to leave he heard a knock on the door to his living quarters, Sybil had never been in here; she'd only ever been to his office. He lifted the charms and let her in. He had been drinking; he wasn't drunk but he was pleasantly buzzed. He hasn't been expecting anyone. 

She stepped into his to find him sitting on a black leather sofa, his legs stretched out along the length of it. He had a tumbler of what looked like firewhiskey in his hand. It was silent except for the crackling of the fire in the hearth. It didn’t matter the time of year, it was always cold in the dungeons. 

She stepped over to the couch, standing to the side of him, "I just came to say goodbye."

"Bullshit, you just feel bad.” He said this without looking at her, he looked down at the drink in his hands. “I may die tomorrow or the next day. You just don't want that on your conscience. You don’t want to know that you denied a man potentially walking to his death a goodbye. A goodbye and a sloppy fuck from the only person who seemed to care about— his fuck buddy. How pathetic of me.”

She cocked her head to the side, but her gaze dropped to the floor. “Was that all it was, Severus? Fucking?” 

He sat up, his head hung with his face buried in his hands. Behind them , he mumbled, “No. Not in the slightest, Sybill."

She rounded the couch and sat next to him. Their legs barely touching, she reached out and rested her hand on his back lightly. 

Her hand felt so warm, and he felt his back muscles relax slightly with her touch. Still speaking into his hands he said, "I'm terrified. I didn't care much about dying before y—"

She cut him off, "Stop. You know the rules. You know certain things cannot be said out loud."

He simply nodded, leaned over, and rested in his head in her lap. She let her fingers lightly caress his ear. He let his eyes shut as she touched him, and she could feel his breath on her legs through the thin material of her skirt. 

They sat like that for a while, she let her fingers roam down his neck, massaging. She squeezed his shoulders and said: "Sit up, let me get your back." He silently sat up. With a flick of her wand, she unbuttoned his shirt and slid it over his shoulder revealing just a thin white undershirt. She adjusted herself behind him on the couch, so he was sitting in between her legs. She massaged his shoulders and eventually pulled him into her, so his back was pressed to her chest. Her lips were pressed to his ear and she whispered, "Don't worry. I  _ know. _ " 

She kissed his ear lobe and his face turned towards her. Trying to tell someone you loved them without saying it, was so much harder than he anticipated, but Sybill made it as easy as she could for him. What was truly difficult for him, was that he wasn't sure how she felt about him. He knew she cared for him, but he was never sure if her want to spare his life, to find a way to change his fate in the war meant that she was in love with him. 

He searched her eyes for the answer, and she seemed to know, as she always did, what he was looking for. She nodded her head just a touch and said in barely a whisper, "I do. So much sometimes I feel like I'm suffocating." He saw tears pooling in her eyes and he caught her lips in a kiss, turning his body around toward her. She leaned back on the couch, his body propped up on his elbows on either side of her. They kissed as if two people might kiss when faced with the uncertainty of their future. She sucked his bottom lip; he nipped at hers; their teeth clanked. She ran her hands down his chest and toyed with the buckle on his trousers, frantic to free his cock. Propped on one arm he reached down and jerked up her skirt. At the moment she reached into his trousers and took hold of his hardened cock, he pulled away from their kiss, searching her face again for clarity. She gave his cock a tight squeeze, "We need this right now. It's all we've got. These bodies. It's the only way to say what we can't say." 

He swallowed hard and nodded, bending down to kiss her again as he dipped his fingers into her, feeling her wet with need, he pumped his fingers into her. 

"I need  _ you  _ now," she whispered and he aligned his cock with her warmth and slowly slid himself into her. 

He sat upon his knees, one hand gripping her hip, and, with the other, he let his index finger lightly graze and toy with her clit. She rested her hand over his hand on her hip and let her eyes shut and her head relax against the cushion. He let himself take in the sight of her spread on his couch as he watched as his cock moved in and out of her. At the moment he felt calm and in control; he simply wanted to take this moment and languish in it. With each thrust and each graze of her swollen clit, she grew closer to coming. 

With one final push of pressure from his finger, she came. It wasn't groundbreaking and Earth-shattering. It was slow and moved in a wave over her. Watching her come was when Severus lost all sense of calmness, he leaned over her, kissing her, and began to pump his hips against her hard and frantically. He'd realized, as her lips parted in gasps, as she clenched her hand upon his, just he much he loved her, and how much he was about to lose. She wrapped her legs around his waist allowing him to sink deeper into her. 

When he came, they were sticky with sweat and he left a trail of kisses from her lips to her breasts. He laid there, his head on her chest and his cock limp inside her for a long time before they pulled apart and he asked her to stay the night with him. 


	21. Cravings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco finds Hermione succumbing to her pregnancy cravings at midnight.

Draco Malfoy woke up at midnight to find that he was in bed alone. He instantly sat up and his ears perked. He heard her immediately. She was in the kitchen. 

Hermione’s wild hair was illuminated by the soft glow of the refrigerator light; she was sitting on the floor, against the cabinets. In front of her was a pint of ice cream, to the right of her a bag of salt and vinegar crisps, and she was, at the moment, cramming several crackers slathered with what looked to be peanut butter into her mouth.

Hermione, through crackers, mumbled, “Did I wake you?”

Draco shook his head no and asked with a small chuckle, “Hungry?” 

He sat down next to her on the floor and grabbed the pint of ice cream from between her legs, scooping some of the brownie chunks onto the spoon. “Hey!” she said, lightly smacking his hand. “Stop it! You always do that. You dig out all the good stuff, and all that’s left is the vanilla ice cream.” 

Again he chuckled, “Are we going to have to buy separate pints?” 

She nodded yes as she popped an olive into her mouth. He hadn’t noticed the olive jar.  _ Where had that come from?  _ he wondered. 

“Hermione. That’s disgusting. You’ve still got crackers and peanut butter in your mouth and you just put …” He grabbed the olive jar and examined it, “a green olive stuffed with blue cheese in there. Now they’re in there, melding together.” 

Hermione chewing shrugged. After a while, she swallowed and said, “Are you judging me, Draco? It’s your baby. I blame you.” 

He laughed again. “I’m not judging you that hard. Not yet anyway. Let’s get to bed. Unless, of course, you’re still craving something.” 

She screwed the lid on the olive jar, “No. I’m okay for now. What I want...what I  _ really  _ want? We can’t get anyway.”

Draco stared at his wife. He was waiting for her to provide him with more information but she didn’t, He sighed, “Okay. Lay it on me. What is it, Hermione?”

Leaning back against the cabinets she glanced at him, “Boiled peanuts. Super spicy. Super salty. Boiled peanuts.” 

He furrowed his brow, “What in the world is a boiled peanut?”

She laughed, “It’s exactly what it sounds like.” 

He shrugged, “Well, where can we get them? I’ll get you some tomorrow. It’s Saturday; we don’t have any plans. No problem. Crisis averted. Whatever you want. I’ll get.” He leaned forward and kissed her cheek as if to end the conversation. 

She smiled wearily, “They’re an American thing. I had them once when I was a teenager when I went with my parents to a dentistry conference in Athens, Georgia. I cannot stop thinking about them, Draco. They’re all I think about. Nothing else. I might lose my mind if I don’t get them.”

Draco gulped and stared at his wife in disbelief. They had four more weeks until the baby was due which meant either she’d forget about the peanuts and she’d find something else to fixate on or she wouldn’t forget about them at all. “America? Hermione…” He began with trepidation. “You know the other day when you wanted crepes from the small cafe in France? The one we went on our honeymoon? You were at a level 150 of absurdity. This? You’re on level...176!”

“176? That seems like an awfully arbitrary number. Can you judge me any harder, hmm? Look, all I can think about is the saltiness! Nothing else compares, Draco. Nothing.” 

He laughed again, “Fine. Fine. Let’s just get back to bed. I’ve got a long day ahead of me tomorrow.”

“You’re going to get me some?” she beamed at him excitedly.

“Of course I am,” he said, standing up and extending his hand to her. 


	22. The Jinx

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus jinxes Hermione, and they spend their evening in search of a place to buy a Coke.

“Blimey, Hermione, where do you even find facts like that?” Ron inquired. 

At that exact moment as Hermeion spoke, Remus, spoke in unison with her, “ _ Hogwarts: A History.”  _

The pair glanced at each other and chucked. Remus then said, “Jinx! You owe me a coke.” Hermione’s eyes widened in horror and Remus gave out a roar of laughter. “I told you I’d get you one day.” 

  
Hermione stomped her foot. Ron looked back and forth between the pair confused, “What is going on?” 

Again, Remus chuckled. “It’s a silly Muggle game; Hermione and I spoke the same words at the same time. She is now not allowed to speak until she buys me a Coke.” 

“What’s Coke?”

“It’s an absolutely delicious Muggle soda. When Hermione buys me one, I’ll make sure she buys you one, too. You’ll love them.”

  
Hermione was shaking her head no and moving her arms in an “x” motion. She got up and went rummaging through the cabinet in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place for paper and quill. She sat back at the table and wrote out:  _ No. No Coke. Ronald will become addicted. They’re absolute rubbish for your teeth. Remus, where can we find a coke around here? _

Remus shook his head in amusement at how long-winded she was, even when writing notes, and he handed Ron the piece of paper to read. 

“Yeah, mate. Can you make sure I get a coke, too?” Ron asked. “I don’t think one won’t ruin my teeth. Hermione, have fun not talking. I’ll see you all around later; I’ve got to get back to training.” He apparated and left Hermione and Remus alone in the kitchen. Remus smiling wickedly at her; Hermione frowning with crossed arms.

He sat down and crossed his legs, “Well,” he tapped his fingers on his knee, “you know you don’t  _ have _ to follow the rules of Jinx; however, I know you, and you would never break that sort of rule, so… I suppose I have you at my mercy until we can find a Muggle shop with a coke. However, it’s quite late. Mmmmm. 10:30 pm. I don’t think many stores would be open at this hour, do you?”

Hermione simply glowered at him. “Should we go out and look for one, Hermione?” 

She nodded her eyes wide, her expression glaring with annoyance and sarcasm. Remus had known for several months that he had feelings for Hermione, but seeing as their age difference, her being a former student of his, her being his colleague at the ministry now—he simply ignored it. He did like her though, and he liked teasing her, waxing poetic with her about things they both loved, learning new things with her, working on reforming law with her: He just liked everything there was. They often weren’t alone together, and, now, being alone in Grimmauld Place with her made him a little nervous, a little untrusting of himself to not try and kiss her. He stood up, “Alright! Let’s go.” She stood up and hooked her arm around his, he raised his eyebrow at her, she sighed and grabbed her paper and quill:  _ Side-along apparition?  _

“Oh! No. I don’t know where to go to get a Coke; we’re just going to have to walk to the Underground and go from there.” 

The next several hours were extremely pleasant. She wrote him notes in response. She eventually grew weary of writing long-hand and began writing with abbreviations. He found all this to be very cute. Some people looked at the pair questioningly, but Remus shrugged and smiled, “I jinxed her.” Hermione would roll her eyes at him often and playfully punch him in the arm or slap his leg. Once, she slapped his legs and let her fingers linger there, pulling away from him languidly and teasingly. He knew she couldn’t have meant it to be that way, but it felt like torture to him. After some-time, they finally found a 24-hour corner-store, where she bought three cokes— she felt as if she deserved one, too. 

She handed him the coke, he popped the top, took a sip. “Well, you can speak now, Hermione.” 

She smiled sheepishly at him and handed him the paper she’d been writing on— she’d written something new:  _ I like you quite a lot, Remus Lupin. Thank you for Jinxing me.  _ He smiled as he read it and she pushed up on her toes and kissed his cheek sweetly. 


	23. Finding Pleasure in Giving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A post-war AU in which Tonks lives and Harry helps her to take care of Teddy.

It all happened in a wave of uncomfortable hurt: he and Tonks, that is. 

Lupin had been lost in the war—Tonks left alone with their new baby. She was toting an odd line of learning to feel endless love while feeling completely lost. She was deeply grateful for her mum, Andromeda, and, of course, Teddy's godfather, Harry. 

Ginny had asked Harry if they could take a break not long after the war ended. She was grieving, too, and suffering from severe post-traumatic stress. While she assured Harry she loved him, she simply needed time to herself. Harry, wanting to do the best he could for everyone, gave her the space she needed, and he hoped she would come back to him again.

Harry was devastated from all their losses, as well, but he also felt an immense relief, too. For the first time in his life, he felt truly free. Sometimes he felt guilty about this, but, usually, he took his positive energy and tried to help out everyone he could. Most of his time, lately, was spent with Andromeda and Tonks and Teddy. Tonks still had to work; there was an unbelievable amount to do. 

The first time it happened, Tonks told herself it would never happen again. She had felt so guilty after. 

Harry had to stay late as one of the trial’s she was in ran over. He had gotten Teddy to bed all on his own, and he’d even made her dinner. He’d left it on the counter with a warming charm cast over it; it wasn’t anything spectacular, it was just spaghetti noodles and a tin of tomato sauce, but it was so simple and so thoughtful that Tonks cried when she saw it sitting on the counter. 

Harry, unsure of how to react, hugged her. He wasn’t as tall as Remus, but he was taller than her and his shoulders had grown wide from all the physical training he was doing as a rising-Auror; she felt completely engulfed in him as he hugged her. Her head was tucked under his chin, which was resting lightly on her head. 

Eventually, her crying ceased and she looked up at him to thank him. Their faces were close. Too close. Looking back, neither of them were sure who kissed whom. It didn’t really matter, they supposed. Their lips met with the tinge of salt from her tears and the faint taste of tea on Harry’s. 

Harry pulled away first. He mumbled, “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have kis—” but Tonks cut him off by meeting his lips again.

He returned her second kiss with intensity, and somehow, after minutes of kissing, they were up against the counter: Tonks sitting on the top of it with Harry standing between her legs. After several moments of touching and nods and “Gods. Yes.” spoken into the crook of his neck, Harry pulled down the leggings Tonks had changed into, unzipped his trousers, and slipped inside of her, hurriedly. 

She wrapped her legs around him, pressing her heel into his calves, urging him closer, needing him deeper inside of her. She kept her face buried in his neck when he came, and she shook her head “no” against his skin when he began to apologize—not for the sex but for the fact that he had come too quickly and that she hadn’t. 

“Harry, hush.” She gave him a quick kiss on the lips and told him he needed to get home; he had an early morning of training the next day. He nodded, gathered his things, and left. 

Tonks immediately rushed to check on Teddy, sleeping peacefully in his crib, the charmed mobile, a lunar cycle, moving silently above him. She fought the urge to pick him up and cradle him, and instead got into the shower and cried. 

Their emotional coming together happened several times over several months. Sometimes it was quick, like the first time, other times it was hours spent in bed together. Harry learning how to make a woman shatter with his lips and tongue. Harry learning how to take his time. When Harry would look back on this time, he would realize that this is where he learned how to take pleasure from giving. 

Eventually, Tonks knew it had to come to an end. One evening, when Teddy was with Andromeda, Tonks met Harry at his flat. She explained everything to him, and while he seemed to understand, as she went to leave he begged her not to. 

“Please don’t leave me.” 

Tonks smiled wearily, “I don’t want to go, Harry, but I have to.” 

He took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose, and she knew she needed to say more. “And, I’m not leaving you forever. I’m just leaving your flat right now. Mainly, so we don’t have more wild sad departing sex.” She chuckled a little to try and lighten the mood, and she saw a small smile playing at his lips. 

Still, she continued, “I’m still here, you know, we just can’t do _ this  _ anymore. It’s unfair to you. It’s unfair to Teddy. Teddy deserves _ his _ godfather as his godfather, not his mother’s lover. I love you, Harry. I always will. You are a wonderful man, but I cannot love you like you deserve to be loved. Don’t trick yourself into thinking that’s what this is. Okay?”

Harry nodded and whispered, “Okay.”


	24. Power Couple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pansy finds herself annoyed with Hermione.

Sometimes, Hermione can be a real pain. I feel like a total bint saying that, but it’s true. I know I have my flaws—believe me, but sometimes? Sometimes it’s just exhausting. It’s often quite hard to be her partner. She doesn’t often think about what she’s saying; she often is so overwhelmingly caught up in what  _ she  _ thinks is best and what  _ she  _ thinks is right and what  _ she  _ does that she forgets that others, like me, aren’t like that; we aren’t her. 

For instance, this morning, I was getting ready for work; I’m a lead journalist at Witch Weekly, which, mind you, I’ve busted my arse to get to that position. Today, however, I was asked to step-in as co-editor as ours was out on vacation for the next two weeks. I hadn’t told Hermione about it; I was nervous, and, honestly, I’m not one to show that I’m nervous, so I just kept quiet about it. This morning, however, I was feeling confident and good about the weeks ahead. As I was putting on my lipstick, Hermione getting dressed, I turned to her and told her. Her unintentionally callous response was, “Are you qualified for that?” 

I know. I know she didn’t mean it as such, but it royally pissed me off. I screwed the cap back on my lipstick, pointed at her, and replied, “Kiss my arse, Hermione. Just kiss my arse. We’re not all you. We’re not all goddesses at everything. I’ve worked my arse off and this is a real opportunity and you know it.”

Hermione, quickly pulling up her stockings followed me down the hall, “Babe, Pansy. I’m sorry!”

I turned and looked at her, rolled my eyes and just a scoffing noise at her, before turning and walking towards the front door of our flat. 

“Pansy, wait. I didn’t mean it like that. You know I didn’t. I just didn’t know what qualifications one needs to be an editor. You know, you’re a journalist. Not an editor.”

“Hermione, how do you think people become editors? They’re journalists with a bigger paycheck and sharp scissors. Come on, now.”

“I promise you I didn’t mean it the way it sounded, Pansy. I’m sorry it sounded that way.”

I shrugged, “I know. I’m overly sensitive, but you really should consider your words, Hermione. It’s hard, you know?”

Hermione, buttoning the small pearled buttons on her silk top, cocked her head to the side, “What’s hard?”

“Being in a relationship with you. Look at you. You’re so good at everything. You’re so intelligent and capable and adored.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at her partner, “Pans. You’re so good at everything.  _ You’re _ brilliant and capable and you’re one thing I’m not.”

I cocked my head to the side this time, “What’s that?”

“You’re powerful. You enter a room and you demand everyone’s attention. You’re going to kick arse these next few weeks, and one day  _ you’ll  _ be the editor with a large pay-check and sharp scissors.”

I caved and smiled at my witch, “And, one day, you’ll be Minister.” My smile widened as I watched Hermione blush. She stepped towards me, pulling on my blazer, and whispered, “Power couple.”

Power couple, indeed, even if she does drive me mad. 


	25. A Dinner Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Harry spend their days at the office bickering.

Harry Potter knew he was a bit childish in nature; he didn’t care. Harry found that he spent so much of his life not being a child, that he could justify being a bit immature now that the war was over, now that everything had, for the most part, resumed to normalcy—plus some. One of those things was the friendship he had with Draco Malfoy. They had gone through Auror training together, and they ended up working surprisingly well as a pair: Harry was impulsive while Draco was methodical. It just...worked. Harry often teased that Draco was a lot like Hermione. Draco often teased that he was only good for when they needed to  _ Expelliarmus _ someone; this, in turn, caused Harry to disarm Draco. The two bickered constantly, and Ron often teased that the two were like an old married couple. 

Today, a Friday afternoon, when they were all exhausted and ready to go home after a gruelling week, Draco propped his feet up on his desk and said, in response to Harry’s complaining, “I’m not tired at all. I could do this all weekend. I was made for this job, Potter.”

Harry turned to look at Draco from where he was standing, “Liar. Lair. Pants on fire.” 

Draco burst out laughing, “What kind of phrase is that?”

Harry shrugged, “It’s a Muggle phrase. We should develop a charm for something like that. Merlin, it would make our jobs so much easier, wouldn’t it? And, it would be quite hilarious watching some idiot running grabbing at his arse while his trousers were on fire.” Harry’s eyes glazed over as he stared off, imagining it and began to laugh so hard he snorted; Draco looked over and saw that tears were running down Harry’s cheeks.

“What is so funny, Potter? That imagine you just described.” 

Harry doubled-over and tried to cease his laughter by expelling slow breaths through his nose. “Yes, but I imagined you. Merlin. I’d love to see your posh arse on fire. You’d be losing your shit if your expensive woollen trousers burnt up, eh?” Harry began to laugh again.

Draco picked up a toothpick from inside a jar on his desk; they were cinnamon flavoured, and they tasted lovely. Harry occasionally wondered if Draco tasted like cinnamon, but he just as often let this thought slip through his fingers. 

“Seriously, Harry. You’re worse than a kid.” 

Harry looked at Draco and smirked, his face red from laughing, and said softly, “Ahhh,  _ Draco _ , you know you like me regardless.”

Draco put his feet down and stared at Harry for a moment. Just slightly he nodded in response to Harry and in barely a whisper, “I do. Quite a lot.” 

A smile quirked on Harry’s lips; he checked his watch, and as Harry stood up he shoved his hands into his pockets “I have an idea.”

  
Draco raised an eyebrow, and Harry continued, “I’d like to take you to dinner. Will you let me take you out?” 

Draco nodded and replied, “Alright. Yes. I will.” Draco found that, at this moment, he was quite grateful for Harry’s impulsivity.    
  



	26. To Ride a Bike

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Not a romantic coupling.)
> 
> Severus discovers a secret of Minerva's.

Severus and Minerva were roped into attending a magical education conference in America. They were registered for a week’s worth of seminars and group activities and, to Severus’ particular dislike, icebreakers. 

Dumbledore insisted the pair spend several days after the conference enjoying the beautiful city of Salem, Massachusetts. They had finished their last day of the conference and were both walking about the city. The two got along just fine; they fought, yes, especially during the school year, but when they were away from Hogwarts, they truly enjoyed their friendship and companionship. 

Minerva and Severus were walking downtown when he spotted the bicycles. One wouldn’t assume that a man like Severus would like riding bikes, but he did; he found road-biking to be optimum exercise as he loathed running. Running? Running was an abomination, but biking? Biking he could do. He tended to spend his summers biking for exercise as his only option at Hogwarts was swimming in the lake and running. 

He elbowed the older witch gently, “Let’s go for a bike ride.”

Minerva protested, “No. No, thank you.” 

  
Snape narrowed his eyes at her, “Come on. I’ve done just about everything you’ve wanted to do without complaint, can we please just ride bikes for a bit?”

Minerva stopped walking in the middle of the street. Her voice dropped to merely a whisper, “I don’t know how Severus. I never rode one as a girl and the opportunity never presented itself as an adult.” 

“You can’t ride a bike? Also, why are we whispering?” He looked confused.

“Because I’m embarrassed, boy,” she snapped. “Doesn’t everybody know how to ride a bike?”

Severus straightened up, unsure as to what was coming over him, he grabbed her by her elbow and tugged her along the street, “I’ll teach you. Come on. It’s easy.” 

She walked quickly to catch up with him, “You’re going to do what?” She watched as he rented one bike, a cruiser. He hopped on it and biked over to her.

He nodded towards a large patch of empty grass, “Let’s go over here.” With a flick of his wand, he lowered the seat. “Okay, first, you’re just going to sit here and walk with your feet. It’ll help you get the feel of the bike.” 

  
The pair did this for quite some time. “You’re apt on a broom, Minerva, so I don’t think balance will be an issue, really.” 

She shook her head, "I'm nervous. No." 

He gave her a look that showed his annoyance and said, "Where's all the Gryffindor courage, woman?"

She sighed and looked down at the grass and nodded, "Okay. You're right."

He repositioned her seat, positioned her hands on the handlebar, set his hands on her waist and said, “Go.” She began to peddle. Wobbly at first, but she was doing well. Eventually, they moved to the sidewalk, his hand resting gingerly but firmly on her waist. She giggled a little as she began to control herself better. Snape even felt a smile spread across his face. “I’m going to let go, but I’ll be right here. I’ll have my wand at the ready to break your fall if you’re about to, ok?” 

She nodded nervously, “Okay. Let’s do it.” 

He let go of her waist and watched as she peddled slowly at first, and, as she sped up, he jogged behind her just in case. She didn’t need him. She laughed as the wind-whipped strands of hair out of her bun. She looked so delighted and pleased with herself. Watching her, Severus knew that this was a memory he’d use when he conjured his next Patronus.


	27. I Like Like You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie Weasley and Nymphadora Tonks argue while studying.

Charlie slammed the library book shut and gruffed, "Is it  _ that  _ time of the month, Tonks?" She’d just rudely told-off a sixth year Ravenclaw that had been hanging all over him; they were studying and apparently Tonks didn’t appreciate the girl hanging around.

Tonks morphed her hair into jet black involuntarily in her annoyance. She was still learning to control her morphing, and, sometimes, when suddenly annoyed or frustrated, her hair or nose or mouth would change unexpectedly. "Charlie! You literally ask me that whenever I’m mad at you! It’s so juvenile.” 

Charlie shrugged and smiled mischievously at his friend, leaning in closer to her, “Well, I honestly can’t imagine why else you’d be so ill with me. I’m a fucking delight to be around.”

She grimaced and through gritted teeth muttered, “That’s the problem.”

Charlie tilted his head to the side, his heart-pounding a little harder than earlier. Had what she said meant what he thought it meant? “What is that supposed to mean, eh? And, why’d you run Elisabeth off?” He didn’t want to give himself away; he didn’t want Tonks to know that he liked her, as he couldn’t risk ruining their friendship. She was his partner-in-crime—his best friend. Now in their seventh year, they'd been thick as thieves since their third. Their friendship was a model for inter-house relationships. 

Tonks slammed down her quill and pushed herself away from the table. She grabbed the books she had been using and scooped them up, making her way back towards the stacks where she had found them.

Charlie, frustrated, confused, and nervous, followed her. In a whisper, as not to infuriate Madam Pince, he said, "What is going on with you, Tonks? You've been weird lately. You get snippy anytime Elisabeth or Margot is around. We haven't done anything but study lately. No sneaking out. No cajoling the house-elves for late-night snacks. It's like you've been avoiding me unless we're in this bloody library."

Tonks turned to face him, her hair now back to its normal length and colour—chin-length, wavy, and bubblegum pink. She stared hard at Charlie, his skin loaded with freckles, his bright blue eyes piercing into her. Her heart lurched at him being so close. He'd been close to her before, so many times, in fact: The night they snuck out and went flying, her chest pressed to his back; the afternoon down at the lake when they played chicken against some friends, her sitting on his shoulders, his hands resting on her thighs; the mornings she'd wake up early to go down with him to visit their Care of Magical Creatures professor, their arms pressed together as they stood and stared in fear and amazement at whatever creature was there. But, none of those times were like now. Now, she could hear her heartbeat in her ears and all she could think about was leaning in and kissing Charlie Weasley. 

She looked down at her beat-up yellow Chuck Taylors, the ones he'd drawn flowers on, and shifted her feet uncomfortably. 

"It's going to sound stupid, Charlie."

Charlie scoffed, "Nothing you say ever sounds stupid. Spit it out,  _ Nymphadora. _ "

She glanced up at him and glared. He flashed a wide grin at her. 

Tonks took a deep breath, bounced up and down on her heels, her hands at her side and her fingers dancing chaotically, "Ilikeyou."

"Come again?"

"Charlie…I've been avoiding you because," she put her hands to her face, covering her eyes, "I realized the other week when we were in the kitchens and we were sharing that slice of cake that, well, that I like you, and not just as my best mate. I  _ like _ like you."

Her eyes were still covered, but she felt something warm press against the top of her right hand; he'd kissed her hand sweetly. She peeked through her fingers and Charlie was standing close to her smiling. "I like you, too, Tonks. I have for ages now. I just never thought you'd think of me that way. As anything more than a brother." 

"Ack. No. I think of your brother as a brother. Not you." 

"Excellent, I think if Bill as a brother, too. Not you."

She laughed a little. He rested his hand on her cheek and smiled. "So, can we go down to the kitchens tonight? Can we go cause some mischief and then go hide in an alcove. I've heard those  _ are  _ the best places to hang-out with your girlfriend." He waggled his eyebrows at her. She playfully slapped him on the arm and nodded, "Yeah. Yeah. I'll ask Winnie to make your favourite pie."

He beamed at her, "You're the best girlfriend." 

She rolled her eyes, "I'm not your girlfriend. Yet. You haven't even properly asked me out." 

"Oh! I've got something planned. I've thought about it for sometime now. It involves dragons!" 

He laughed as he heard Tonks groan. 


	28. The Strip Club Experience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys take Draco out before he and Hermione get hitched.

Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger were set to be married a week from today. Hermione was with Ginny and Lavender and Luna and Hannah for her hen do in France. Harry had  _ insisted _ Draco have a stag night; Draco wanted no part in it. He didn’t care. He didn’t see the point. He thought it was silly and banal. Draco was, essentially, above a stag do. 

But, he ended up having zero say in it. Harry, of course, knew that Ron and Neville would be up for it, but the trick was to get Theo and Blaise on board; they’d be the ones to convince Draco. It took them a few days, but Draco finally agreed to go out for dinner and drinks or something. Nothing extravagant. 

Draco sat in the back of Ron’s magically extended Jeep sandwiched between Blaise and Theo. He loved his car. He was becoming quite a lot like Arthur if truth be told. Such a fascination with Muggle things. 

  
Draco cleared his throat, “Where are we going?” 

Harry leaned forward and smiled wickedly at Draco, “We’re going to downtown London.”

“Why in the bloody hell are we going downtown? I thought we were going to go eat somewhere wizarding. Have some firewhisky. Chat. Call it a night.”

Ron glanced at Draco in the rearview mirror, “No, Draco. There’s a strip club downtown. We’re going there.”

  
Draco bolted upright, infuriated, “What?”

Neville turned, “Look, even I went to one when Hannah and I got married. It was fun. I was definitely nervous at first, but…” Draco cut him off.

“No!” He began to tick off reasons on his fingers, “One: Hermione will murder me. Two: I just don’t want to. It makes me uncomfortable. I know it’s not cheating, but it makes me feel unloyal to her. Three: I really was looking forward to fish ‘n chips at The Three Broomsticks; it’s been ages since I’ve had it.”

“Oh, it’ll be fun, Draco. We’ve got a real special evening planned,” Theo said, nudging him in the arm lightly. 

They all knew going into this that Draco definitively did  _ not  _ want to go to a strip club. He’d been saying it from the get-go when they started in on the whole stag do thing.

Ron roared, “We’re here!” 

The men all tumbled out, Blais having to push Draco onto the street. Harry grabbed Draco by the arm and pulled him forward, Draco resisting. “Come on. We worked hard to put this together for you, mate.” 

They dragged him to the side of the building, opened the door and pushed him, shutting him inside. Draco turned around and stared at the now shut door. He jiggled the handle. It was locked. “What the hell is going on? Harry! Open up.” 

He heard Harry’s muffled voice, “Just go on in. Trust me.”

Draco turned around, leaned against the door and muttered, “For fuck’s sake. All I wanted was to eat some damn fish. Stupid Potter and his stupid plans.” 

Draco pushed himself up off the door and began to walk down the short hallway where he found a door with a sign on that read: If you’re Draco Malfoy, soon-to-be husband of Hermione Granger. Please knock three times and enter.

Draco lifted an eyebrow, raised his fist to the door, and knocked three times. He tentatively opened the door and stepped inside the room. There, standing in front of a velvet couch, in the soft glow of light, was his soon-to-be wife. Her hair was pulled up in a high ponytail, her curls falling around her shoulders. She wore black thigh-highs and a dark-green satin garter with accompanying corset and bra. She had on high black pumps, and she walked over to him, closer to his height than usual. She gestured to the sofa with her head, before saying, “Go sit on the couch, Mr Malfoy. I have a show for you.” 

Draco felt his cock straining against his trousers already and his dry-swallowed as he nodded and began to walk over to the couch, anxious for whatever show his fiance had planned. 

  
  



	29. M.M.F

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A post-war AU in which Wolfstar exists and everyone lives and Harry has a massive crush on Tonks.

Ron, face bright red, chuckled, “Okay. Okay. Marry. Murder. Fuck. Tonks. Fleur. Hermione.”

Harry’s mouth popped open. “YOU CAN’T PUT HERMIONE IN THE MIX!. She’s your girlfriend, she is off-limits.” 

“I know, mate. I just wanted your reaction. Alright, Tonks. Fleur. Cho.”

Harry took a sip of his beer and nodded, “Okay. That’s easy. Murder Cho. Sorry, Cho. Fuck Fleur. Marry Tonks. Tonks’ perfect! She’s really smart and really funny; she’s a total badass, and Tonks’ body makes me want to do terrible things to it.” 

Harry and Ron both burst into laughter. This dumb, childish game— just between them, always entertained them. However, neither knew that Sirius and Remus had walked in right as the words, “Tonks’ body makes me want to do terrible things to it,” came out of Harry’s mouth. Sirius laid a firm hand on Harry’s shoulder and squeezed.

“Harry, I’m not sure you should speak about Tonks that way.”

Harry’s face turned bright red, not from the beer or from the laughter, but from sheer embarrassment. Harry would have never told anyone except Ron what he just said. He hadn’t even really meant it. Yes, he thought Tonks was absolutely stunning, but if she ever approached him physically Harry knew he would freeze-up like a popsicle. He was just saying stupid things with Ron. 

Harry gulped and looked up at Sirius, “I was just joking. I mean, she is very attractive. But, I respect the shit out of Tonks, Sirius. You know that.”

Sirius winked, “I know, Harry.”

Ron piped up, “In Harry’s defence, he did say a slew of complimentary things beforehand. It actually sounds like our Harry has a crush on Tonks.”

  
Harry’s face turned bright red again. Sirius and Lupin eyed Harry curiously. Harry shrugged, “Yeah. Well...I guess I do, but it’s just a silly crush.”

As if his words summoned her, they heard a popping sound, and all four men watched as Tonks apparated into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. “Wotcher, boys! Remus. I really need your help with this case. I’m sorry to barge in like this at this hour.”

Ron couldn’t help himself and began laughing; Harry reached over and knocked him in the arm with his fist; Sirius then let out a low chuckle; Remus, however, was as composed as ever.

Remus sighed, “I’m sorry, Dora. I seem to live with children.”

Tonks’ face shined with the enjoyment of whatever it was witnessing, “Oh! Well, I wouldn’t say that. Ron and Sirius are children. Harry, however? Harry’s in the top of his class in Auror training. He’s sagacious and reliable. All the other trainees admire him. Speaking of, Harry, we have your scores from your last test, if you’d like to pop back to the office with me to see them.”

“I thought Moody kept them locked up in his office.”

She smiled wickedly, “He does, but that doesn’t mean we can’t sneak in.” She winked at him. The eyes of all of the men in the room were on him. He swallowed hard, suddenly very nervous, and nodded, “Yeah! I’ll come with you.” 

As Harry and Tonks linked arms for side-along Apparition, Sirius winked and yelled, “I think it’s reciprocated.” 

  
Tonks turned her head questioningly and Harry shrugged with a small smile.


	30. Part One: The Surprise in Fleur’s Travel Bag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Fleur did not marry Bill and Tonks did not marry Remus or die. The two women have to share a room at The Burrow for Sirius and Remus’ wedding

This has been reposted as a one-shot.


	31. Part Two: The Surprise in Fleur’s Travel Bag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Fleur did not marry Bill and Tonks did not marry Remus or die. The two women have to share a room at The Burrow for Sirius and Remus’ wedding. This will be a three-parter.

This has been reposted as a one-shot.


	32. Part Three: The Surprise in Fleur’s Travel Bag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Fleur did not marry Bill and Tonks did not marry Remus or die. The two women have to share a room at The Burrow for Sirius and Remus’ wedding. This will be a three-parter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This third part is quite explicit.

This has been reposted as a one-shot.


	33. You're My Boo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fred picks up some new vernacular.

Hermione Granger sat in her office at her desk when her longtime friend Fred Weasley walked in. 

"Hey, boo."

Hermione quirks an eyebrow at him. "Boo? As in, you're trying to scare someone? As in, boo-boo? As in…? Hey, boo just doesn't make sense, Fred. Whatever ridiculous vernacular you've picked up from youth culture this time just simply doesn't work. I don't understand why you find it so fascinating. I mean, the young people these days! It's just the dregs of society. Ever the intelligent ones. It's as if they are complete idiots. I mean, I know, they are critical to your business, but they just don't understand the sacrifices we…"

"Hermione…" Fred interjected, "relax. I agree. It's silly, but it's just silly. You need to ease up and, well, relax." Fred walked over to Hermione's desk and took her quill out of her hand. He crouched down beside her. "Let's go meet everyone for drinks. Come on. It's way past the time you need to leave for work." 

Hermione sighed and nodded. "Let me just tidy these papers up." She began shuffling things around on her desk, "What's "boo" mean anyway?"

Fred blushed a little and cleared his throat. "Well, let's use context clues, Miss Granger."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him and laughed, "Fine. Fine."

"Miss Granger is going to get drinks with me and the gang tonight. I enjoy her company an awful lot. She's my boo." 

"Hmmm. So, I'm your boo?"

"You're my boo." 

Hermione feigned confusion and shrugged. 

Fred sighed, he knew what she was doing, "It means I like you." 

A smile spread across Hermione's face, "Good." She finished tidying her desk and stood up. She gestured to the door and said, "Let's go, boo."


	34. The Icecream Incident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus checks on Tonks.

Remus Lupin was making dinner. His very pregnant wife was in the bath. 

Suddenly, Remus heard a shrill cry from the bathroom. 

He ran, quickly, from kitchen to bathroom. He knew, in his heart of hearts, that something was wrong. She'd fallen and hurt herself. She was going into labour. _Something_ had happened.

"Dora! What happened?"

Remus swung open the bathroom door to find his wife in tears staring at a sopping wet, half-filled with water, pint of strawberry cheesecake ice cream.

"Are you ok?" Remus knelt by the tub. 

She nodded, woefully, "I dropped my ice cream in the tub! I hadn't even had a lot of it."

Relief swept over his body, "Don't you ever do that again! You scared the shit out of me."

She glanced up at him, her face more stricken with distraught than before. "Don't yell at me!"

He reached his hand out and ran his fingers along her cheek, "I'm sorry, love. When you screamed like that. I thought...I thought. God. I was so scared you'd fallen! Or you were hurt. It's just so close to Teddy being born and…"

She saw tears swelling in his eyes. "Oh, Remus. I'm sorry I scared you. I was just so looking forward to this ice cream, and my clumsy-self dropped it." Pushing herself up towards him she kissed his scruffy cheek.

He smiled at her kiss. "I'll go to Fortescue's after we eat and get you more. I'm going to finish up dinner and let you relax. Call for me when you're ready to get out. Please, let me help you out."

She smiled and leaned back into the water shutting her eyes, "I will! I promise." 


	35. Part One: The Unexpected Evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucius asks Severus to play a role in his marriage with Narcissa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Narcissa and Lucius have an open marriage.
> 
> Content Warning: There is a brief mentioning of infertility and miscarriages.

Severus Snape was many things, but he was not an idiot. He knew exactly what his relationship with Narcissa Malfoy was going to be. Lucius had approached him about the whole thing, and it was common-place in pureblood marriages for them to be open. The Malfoy's, in particular, tended to have a string of young female lovers in and out of their bedroom. 

The couple had stopped their playing when Draco was born and began again when he went off to school. It had been three years since then. Narcissa didn't ask for much in regards to their sexual exploits; it was always far more about fulfilling Lucius' needs, but now? Now she did have a request. She wanted Severus Snape. Once a week. Alone. No Lucius. 

At first, Lucius didn't want to fulfil this wish, but he loved Narcissa dearly. That was maybe the difference in their relationship versus other pureblood marriages. He truly loved her. 

Narcissa loved Lucius, but her heart belonged to her son. Fertility issues left her with a number of miscarriages and when Narcissa and Lucius got pregnant with Draco they spent the entire pregnancy on pins and needles. Narcissa and Lucius never outwardly got their hopes up for the baby to actually be born. And once he was they were both smitten. Lucius showed his affection by being hard on the boy and having absurd expectations; Narcissa, however, doted on him, and it was years before she was comfortable letting him sleep out of her sight. 

Him being at Hogwarts was particularly very hard on her. 

_ This _ was what her request for Snape had been about. The first night he arrived, she decided that she wasn't going to show him all her cards yet. She knew tonight she needed to sleep with him so that when he inevitably reported back to Lucius, everything seemed in order. She was preparing herself for this when she heard a crash in the hallway. She hadn't lit any candles for him, and he was instructed to leave his wand at the front door: He couldn’t see a thing.

He stepped into her bedroom and sighed in exasperation, "I knocked over the bust of your father. It didn't break, but it hit some bloody vase and that broke. I'd repair it, but…" He reached out his arms and shrugged annoyingly, "no wand. I did pick up the pieces and one sliced my hand quite badly. Can you mend it? I would, but, again, you required me to leave my fucking wand at the door, Narcissa." 

"You broke what?!" Narcissa jumped up from her poised position on her bed. 

"Don't worry, I'm okay." Snape rolled his eyes at her lack of concern for him, not that he was shocked. 

She rolled her eyes right back at him and waltzed over to him. She was wearing a blush-pink silk robe. He knew what he was here for but he tried to not gawk at the movement of her body beneath the thin material. She grabbed his hand and muttered a few spells over the wound — cleaning and stitching it nearly up. “The vase doesn’t matter. It was Lucius’ mother’s, but he’ll get over it.” She shrugged half-heartedly. 

He gave a terse nod and thanked her. He then stepped back, remembering his manners and said, "You look very beautiful, Narcissa. Thank you for wanting me to be a part of …" 

She cut him off. "Can I trust you?"

"Yes, Narcissa. You know this." 

"You must not tell Lucius."

Snape lowered his eyes to the floor and back at her. Out of the two, Snape felt more of an obligation to Lucius but he cared for and trusted Narcissa more. He gulped, “Tell him what?”

"I want you here as a friend. As a confidant. Lucius is very hard on Draco. Draco is at an age where he doesn't tell me much. I need you to keep me updated on how he is. He's my only child, Severus. I cannot lose him to Lucius. I cannot lose him because of what and who Lucius wants him to be."

"Why are you dressed like that is this isn't about sex?" 

"I thought I might have to pretend it was for a while and then approach you with what I really wanted. But, and please don't take this the wrong way, Severus. I don't want to have sex with you. I haven't wanted to have sex with anyone in a long time: Not Lucius. Not the women he always brings to our bed. I don’t care about sex, but I trust you and I care for you. I didn't want to lie to you about my intentions." 

Snape nodded again, "That's fine. I will keep an eye on Draco for you. I will assist him however it seems fit. We do, however, have some time to fill if we are to have Lucius believe we are up here ravaging each other. Would you like to play chess?" He motioned to the set near the fireplace. Severus was quite relieved that they weren't having sex. Narcissa was very attractive, but Severus hadn't exactly been looking forward to her and Lucius' sex games. 

"I'm rubbish. That's there for show. It's embarrassing really." 

"I'll teach you."

She smiled softly and nodded, "Fair enough."

An hour passed and Narcissa found that she'd just had the most enjoyable evening she'd had in a very long time. She'd even laughed a few times. She was older than Severus but he never seemed young to her. She learned more about the game with him than she ever had in all her years before. In this relaxing, no pressure environment, Snape found Narcissa to be much warmer and friendlier than in her youth. He, too, found that he had enjoyed her evening. 

Snape grabbed her hand and kissed it lightly, as he went to leave. "I'll see you at the same time next week." 

She nodded, already looking forward to it. 


	36. Part Two: The Unexpected Evening

Several months had passed and each week she saw Severus. Not once had they touched except for the casual passing of a book or drink. A few times they lied in bed together, but even then their bodies were inches apart from one another. Narcissa was becoming reliant on these meetings. Lucius was often not present. When he was, it was rushed dinners or quick fucks before bed. Since she'd begun seeing Severus, Lucius had begun to bring more women into their bedroom. She suspected it was to ease his jealousy of Severus. Narcissa simply focuses on the new woman—she knew for her an orgasm was a distant thing of the past, but she was determined to make this nameless member of their bedroom come at least once.

It was almost impossible for Narcissa to have an orgasm. As for most women, Narcissa's headspace was essential, but it had been years since she'd come for Lucius. She often pleasured herself when he wasn't home or in the bathtub, whenever she had the time to relax and really focus. 

She'd found that since having visits from Severus, she had been masturbating a lot more. After he left, she always felt so relaxed and so at ease that she'd take a bath and work herself with her fingers until she unravelled beneath them—almost always thinking about him. 

Suddenly, she'd found herself in a complex situation. She'd specifically told him that their meetings weren’t about sex, that she didn't want to have sex with him. Now she did. Now she  _ wanted _ him. All week she thought of their shared evening. All week she anticipated what to wear and say and do. All week she waited. 

It became painfully obvious in her day-to-day life that what she'd been lacking this whole time was someone who showed interest in her. Someone who sat across from her and thought only of her. Someone who asked her questions and wanted to know her thoughts. Someone who laughed at her wit and in turn made her laugh. Narcissa knew that her husband loved her, they'd been together so long now, how could he not care deeply for her on a basic level, but he wasn't interested in her anymore. She was a fixture in his life. She was unchanging, and, thus, he didn't have to think about her. 

As an intelligent woman, she knew how she was feeling for Severus was idiotic, but she didn't care. She knew the feelings might not be returned, and, if they were, they could change in a second, based on any number of things. Again, she didn't care. She was finally feeling something of her own for the first time in years, and she was going to have it and play with it for as long as it stuck around.

When Severus came, she had always dressed beautifully; she'd always wanted to charm him with her looks as well, but, tonight, she wanted it to be clear what she wanted from him. 

Entering her bedroom, Severus realized she wasn't in the bedroom. His eyes scanned the room for her and his breath caught in his throat when he saw her standing in the doorway of the bathroom, moving towards him. Her blonde hair was in loose waves, hanging around her shoulders. She wore a black lace bodysuit. There was a deep cut that settled between her breasts, and the sleeves were dainty caps. He scanned her body hungrily and he could see her hardened nipples, the blonde patch of curls between her legs. He snapped himself out of his reverie; he knew this must be some trick, some game she and Lucius were playing. 

He cleared his throat trying to appear calm and cool and unphased by her body. "Why’re you dressed like that?” 

This was absolutely not the reaction she'd hoped for. She didn't want to show how hurt she felt, but it was hard to ignore. "Does that mean it looks good or should I change?”

She stepped closer to him, and she  _ Accioed  _ the pink robe she'd worn their first night together. She slipped it on, and he could read a wave of disappointment across her face. 

"You know you look stunning, Narcissa."

She shook her head, "No. I'm approaching forty. I've had a child." 

"Why are you dressed like that?"

"For you."

"I thought— "

She cut him off in a whispered voice, "I've changed my mind."

"Is this a trick? Is this a game?"

She shook her head, "No. It's just things have changed. Don't you think so? Between us?"

He nodded. 

"Say more than that, Severus." 

He stepped to her. He cupped her face in his hands. He bent near her ear and whispered, "Words are dangerous. Look into my eyes." 

Narcissa wasn't as skilled as he was at legilimency, but it would do. She glanced up at him and slipped into his brain. She saw how he felt about her. She saw his reservations about his feelings. She realized he was worried that the feelings they shared changed the terms of their relationship; that they were embarking upon much more than an understood sexual triste. He needed her to understand that regardless of what he felt there was never going to be a relationship between them. They would always just be these meetings, and, eventually, Lucius would grow weary of them and insist they end. 

She pulled out of his mind and pushed up into him, kissing him. He kissed her back, tenderly at first. 

He held her, and they moved clumsily and eagerly to her bed where she fell back, and he climbed on top of her. Her robe slid open. His fingers deftly toyed with the lace on the sleeves. "This is very beautiful on you, but you didn't need all this." 

"I do. My body isn't…" 

He put a finger to her lips and wordlessly vanished the garment. She was just in her robe now. Her body felt hit against the cool material. She felt so exposed. Her breasts weren't perky anymore after two years of nursing an eager and hungry baby and, of course, age. Her belly wasn't flat—the ever-present pouch and faded stretch marks. He trailed his fingers across the plains of her body. He cupped her breasts and rolled her nipples roughly. His fingertips tickled her waist and her belly. He stopped his hand above her pubic bone and bent down to kiss her, trailing with kisses down to her hip. With her hands on his arms, she attempted to pull him back up towards her. 

He raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Don't waste your time,” she said.

"It's not a waste of time. I've thought often about…”

She interrupted him. "It's not that. I won't come. I just need to feel you inside me. I know I won't come. Just enjoy yourself. I want to know that I've made you feel good."

He moved back up towards her. "No. And what do you mean you won't come?"

She sighed, "I shouldn't tell you this."

He paused waiting. She continued, "I haven't had an orgasm from anyone other than myself in years."

His brow furrowed, "That's a damn shame. If you were my wife…" He caught himself and stopped. 

Now she paused. Waiting on him to continue. He did. "I'd want you to come for me. But, you're not my wife, and…" He trailed his fingers between her legs, gently nudging them apart. "I'd like to try and make you come. May I?"

She whispered back, "Yes." 

He kissed her again. Taking his time with his fingers. He toyed with her sex. His fingers grazed her lightly. He moved his lips to her neck and to her breasts. Finally, he pressed her lips to her clit and lightly sucked. She keened beneath his mouth. Her hands found purchase on his shoulders as he slipped two fingers inside her, pumping them and curling them within her. 

What did it for her, what made her eventually come, was his eager moans as he licked and sucked and kissed her. He was still dressed. He seemed to have no immediate want to remove his clothes and be touched himself, and yet he was moaning as he ate her cunt. She cried out as he began to pump his fingers quicker into her, as he put more pressure on her clit, and she felt her thighs shake and her mind unravel for him. He continued to lap at her sex as she came down from her orgasm. If he had been Lucius, he would have popped up, right as she came, and claimed victory at giving her an orgasm. Severus hadn't changed what he was doing at all, except to slow down. 

She tapped his shoulders and urged him up. "Take your trousers off, Severus. I need you inside of me now."

He nodded and within moments pressed the tip of his cock to her centre, pushing inside.


	37. Triple Meat Sandwich

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Non-magical AU in which Draco and Hermione fill the roles of Ron Swanson and Leslie Knope from Parks and Recreation

Draco Malfoy pushed himself slightly back from his desk chair and glared at the woman in front of him. “Dammit, Hermione. What the hell is spew?”

Hermione Granger smiled widely, “It’s not ‘spew’. It’s S.P.E.W. Are you even listening to me?”

She stared at her boss; his eyes were glazed over staring at the triple meat sandwich she’d brought him. His mouth was watering, staring at it. If only she would leave his freakin’ office so he could dig into it. She knew just how he liked his triple meat sandwich; she knew he didn’t waste his time putting lettuce or tomatoes or onions on his sandwiches. Oh. Oh no. It was just three different types of perfectly thickly sliced meat and thick cuts of cheese and, “Draco! Are you listening?” 

“What? Fine. Fine, just do what you have to do for spew or whatever.”

“For the last time! It isn’t spew. It’s S.P.E.W. I will take that sandwich away if you don’t listen to me.”

He huffed, “Fine. What’s S.P.E.W., then, you annoying woman?” 

She smiled. “Thank you. It stands for Specialization of Penguins Entering Wedlock. I'm trying to ensure that Marsha Whosawhatsit can't say that those two penguins have to have their marriage annulled just because they're both males. That is penguin sexual orientation discrimination. I won't stand for that in this city, Draco." She stomped her foot and pointed at him as if he were the one who was causing her grief. He rolled his eyes outwardly but internally smiled at her absurdity and the adorableness of it. 

Draco pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. "Why? Why did you insist on marrying penguins, Hermione? This has been such a pain in my arse."

"Because it's adorable, Draco! It's cute! And, visitation at the zoo is up 60% since I've started these events. Look, I'm going to marry ALL the freakin' penguins and the rest of the animals at the zoo. Now I have a point to prove about marriage equality, and I intend to do it."

"Through zoo animals."

"You're damn right. Now. Sign this."

"What's it for?"

"Your sandwich is losing its freshness. This makes you a member of S.P.E.W." 

He scrawled his signature across the paper. Hermione preened. "Thank you, Draco! This is going to make a huge difference! We're going to save these penguins' marriage!" 

Draco picked up his sandwich and muttered, "Can you stop being so freaking cute so I can concentrate?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow, "Are you talking to me or the sandwich?"

Draco was midbite, so instead of replying he shrugged and motioned for her to leave his office.


	38. First Block Planning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Pansy work at a high school together in this Muggle AU.

Pansy Parkinson so looked forward to her planning period. She had first block planning which meant that when the school day started, she didn't start with everyone else. She got to take her time, and she slowly began her day. She always brought a second container of cold brew for her planning period which she kept it in the refrigerator of the faculty workroom.

Nearing the middle of grading calculus tests, Pansy was ready for her delicious cold brew. Her heels clicked down the hallway in anticipation of it. She only had a handful of tests left to grade; she was feeling quite accomplished, and she was in an excellent mood until she stepped into the room. Sitting at the staff table, sucking down a very heavily creamed cold brew coffee was fucking Harry Potter—history teacher and football coach.

Pansy rounded the table and glared at him. He'd done this before. The first time it had been an accident. The last time, he had done so intentionally, and she knew that this time it was as well. He didn't even look at her. He just casually sucked on the straw and continued to scan the paper. She flung open the refrigerator door and, yep, her coffee was gone. 

"Dammit, Potter!"

He looked up at her innocently above his glasses. "What? Oh! Your coffee. I didn't mean to grab it. I was grabbing for a bottle of water, but I was talking to Neville and I picked up your coffee by mistake." 

"You are lying."

"I am not."

"I want an apology."

Harry stared at her dumbfounded. "For what? I don't understand. I didn't mean to do it. The last time, I'll admit, I did it intentionally to mess with you. I didn't this time. Once, I'd taken a sip out of it…"

"You just kept drinking it!"

Harry scratched his head, "Well, what was I going to do? Put it back after having drunk from it?"

Pansy rolled her eyes and stormed out of the room.

The next morning, waiting in front of her classroom door was a cold brew coffee and a chocolate scone with a small note attached, "I'm sorry for drinking your coffee. I hope this helps make up for it until I can take you out for coffee one Saturday morning. - Harry"


	39. Professionally Developed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Pansy work at a high school together in this Muggle AU.

If there was one thing Coach Potter and Ms Parkinson had in common it was their absolute hatred for staff meetings—especially the ones that were for,  _ ack _ , professional development.

Potter knew the time was much better spent reviewing tapes in his office, coming up with new plays, or meeting with the other coaches. His team was the best of the best; they were national champions, and he had a reputation to uphold. 

Parkinson knew that her time was much better-spent grading and thinking. Most of what she did in her classroom was think about new ways to teach complex mathematical concepts. She was a wildly tough, but highly successful, teacher; she did not need to be professionally developed. 

Both of them knew that every last second they spent in the library today was going to be absolute torture.

They began the day with “icebreakers” and “team-building activities”. The middle of the day was spent planning with their respective departments to ensure standard alignment from top to bottom. The end of the day? Well, that was unfortunately designated for more team-building activities: Unlike, the morning, this segment of the day was about developing relationships with people outside of your department and grade level. Pansy was annoyed by most of the people who worked in her department and in her grade level, and she knew she was going to be even more annoyed by anyone outside of those two divisions. 

They grouped everyone randomly into pairs and somehow by some sick twist of fate, Pansy was stuck with Coach Potter. Harry fucking Potter. He was treated as if he could do no wrong. He was Golden; he was the Saviour of their school and of their once abysmal football program. He drove Pansy absolutely insane. Once, he accidentally drank the coffee that she had in the lounge. Then, he did it again. Then, he did it again and tried to say it was an accident and  _ then  _ he suggested they go out for coffee. She was so annoyed.  _ As if she would ever go out with him. _ He was arrogant. He was full of himself. Yes, he was quite fit, but not her type. She preferred the tall, dark, silent, brooding ones, like her previous boyfriend Theo Nott. Not Harry Potter. Not broad-shouldered, muscular, messy-brown hair, glittering green eyes Potter who cracked jokes and made everyone laugh, including her to her dislike on a few occasions. _ Not _ him.

They paired off in one corner of the library. Harry beamed at her. Harry liked Pansy. She was fun to mess with; he knew she found him absurdly obnoxious, but he didn’t care. She was an absolute delight to rile up; she was quite stunning physically; she was absurdly smart, and the relationship she had with her students fascinated him. They loved her and they hated her. Harry walked a fine line of being students' best friends, and while he was a dynamo football coach he was not the best history teacher. 

Harry shoved his hands in the pockets of his denims and he waggled his eyebrows at her, “Well, this is awkward. Ms Parkinson. Ms Someone-Asks-Me-Out-Via-Note-And-Pastry-And-I-Never-Ever-Acknowledge-It. How are you, Pansy? How’s your day? Aren’t you just loving being developed  _ professionally? _ ”

  
He grinned widely at her and winked. She rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Just be quiet. Let’s figure out what we have to do and get it over with, alright?” 

Harry shrugged and turned his head towards the centre of the room to wait on their instructions. Their headmaster Professor Dumbledore clapped his hands and beamed at them, “You all are going to recreate the model I have built under here.” He motioned towards something covered with a sheet. “Minerva is going to give all of you a tupperware dish full of legos. You are to recreate the structure.” 

Pansy made a noise with her mouth and nose, “Pfft. That’ll be a piece of cake.” 

“The catch,” Dumbledore began, “is that only ONE of you is allowed to see the model. One of you will come up to look at it and then instruct your partner on how to put the structure together. You will be allowed to come up to the table just three times! The pair that gets it right first wins.”

A science teacher, Blais Zabini yelled, “Well, what’s the prize, boss?”

Dumbledore rubbed his chin, “ You don’t have to come in tomorrow. No second day of professional development here at school. You get to stay home.” 

Pansy and Harry raised their eyebrows at each other. Both were hyper-competitive. Both hated professional development days. She smoothed her skirt, “I’ll go look. I’ve probably got a better memory than you.”

Harry twisted his face in disbelief, “No. I can remember very complex plays and patterns. I think I should go look at it.”

“You think because you can remember plays and patterns for a football game that you have a better memory than I do? You do realize that when I tea—”

He cut her off, “Whatever. Fine. We’re wasting time. You go look. I’ll build.”

  
The pair worked shockingly well together. Pansy, looking at the model she’d instructed Harry to build, was certain they were close but one thing was missing. She wasn't quite sure what. 

She sat next to him, pressing her fingers to her temple. Harry reached out and gently nudged her elbow, “Come on, Parkinson! I want that day off.” 

She snapped her fingers at him, “Don’t touch me! I’m thinking. You’re a distracting menace!” She snapped her fingers again and instructed him on what to do. She stared at the model for a second and nodded, “That’s it. We’ve got it.”

Harry raised his hand and Dumbledore came over and grinned pleased. “Well done, you two!”

Dumbledore beamed mischievously, “I forgot to mention. While you  _ do get _ the day off from coming here, you have to spend the day together. Team building. I’ve got the schedule here.”

Both of their faces fell in horror as they took their scheduled day from their boss.


	40. Take A Hike

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Pansy work at a high school together in this Muggle AU.

Pansy and Harry had to go hiking. Yes. Hiking. Dumbledore had tricked them into this ridiculous and absolutely preposterous situation. 

Pansy enjoyed working out, but she liked to do so inside: spin class, pilates, yoga, barre, even running on a treadmill. To her, there was nothing worse than being outside and sweating, being in the dirt and sweating— dreadful. 

So, this? This hiking thing was worse than sitting inside for a professional development meeting. 

Harry, on the other hand, was in his element. He was so excited for today that when Pansy crossed her arms and pouted like a child saying, "You can’t make me." He felt a bit annoyed. 

He scowled at her, “What are you? Five? This is a beautiful hike and it's cool, the perfect temperature really, and it's early Fall so the leaves are just now turning a burnt orange. Honestly, it's quite gorg—"

"Oy! I didn't know you were such a Romantic, Potter."

Harry raised an eyebrow questioningly at her.

"You know, Wordsworth, Keats, Shelley. Is any of this ringing a bell? Do you even know any poetry?"

Harry nodded, "Sort of. I don't know. Come on! Let's get going." He took off down the trail, and Pansy, begrudgingly walked behind him. 

As the day passed, Pansy and Harry chatted and bickered here and there. Harry found he enjoyed Pansy's company, and she found that she enjoyed his. 

Finally, they reached their destination. They sat at the top of the peak. Harry handed Pansy a bottle of water out of his knapsack. She smiled and said, "Thank you," as she took it from him.

"I do know some, by the way," he said, out of the blue.

Pansy cocked her head to the side curiously, "Know what?"

Harry cleared his throat, "See the mountains kiss high heaven / And the waves clasp one another; / No sister-flower would be forgiven / If it disdained its brother; / And the sunlight clasps the earth / And the moonbeams kiss the sea: / What is all this sweet work worth /If thou kiss not me?"

He turned and smiled widely at Pansy after he'd finished. 

There was a slight flush to her cheeks, "You are a romantic, Potter." She nudged him gently with her elbow, their arms gently resting against one another now. 

He shrugged and leaned into her, "I am. I admit." 

Glancing at him a smile played at her lips, "I'd kiss you." 

He turned to face her, as she continued. "I mean, I blame all this mountain air and my oxygen levels being lower at this altitude and your poetry and…"

Harry cut her off by pressing his lips to hers. A breath caught in her throat and her hands found home against his chest while one of his hands cupped her cheek. He tasted like strawberries and smelled of sweet sweat. She parted her lips, and he happily slipped his tongue against hers. 

They kissed for quite some time before Pansy pulled away and eyed Harry curiously. "I'm not sure this is considered professional development."

Harry chuckled. "If it is, then I don't hate it anymore."


	41. Post-Graduation Plans

They'd done it. They'd graduated. In two weeks Charlie would be off to Romania and in a month Tonks would be going into Auror training. It was their first nights back at home, and Charlie was glad to be back in the Burrow, he really was. He was glad to hear the noise and commotion from his five younger siblings, to smell his mum's cooking, to laugh with his father, but he was also ready, all ready to go. 

He heard his youngest brother, Ron, arguing with his oldest younger brother, Percy about something again tonight. He heard Percy snap Ron, "Leave me alone! Stop being so selfish!" He heard Ron mutter something under his breath. He wondered if he should intervene, but it was 10. They'd all be ushered into their respective beds soon enough by their mum.

Charlie heard soft tap, tap, tap-tap, at his window and he turned to see his girlfriend. His heart began to race. He cast a ward on his door and ran over to the window to let her in. 

"Hi!" he said, as he watched her clamber into his small bedroom.

She flopped a blanket on his bed. He raised a brow, "Why'd you bring a blanket?"

She walked up to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, tilting her head with a large smile plastered upon it, "Because you're a blanket hog." 

"Oh! So you're going to stay with me tonight?" 

She bit her lip and nodded. 

He beamed and he felt his stomach lurch in excitement. They'd spent a lot of nights together; since they'd begun dating they were savvy and clever enough to find ways to spend time after curfew together without getting caught.

Charlie tilted his head down and met her lips. She met him hungrily and excitedly. They hadn't had sex yet. They'd done everything else under the sun with enthusiasm and frequency, but both had been too nervous before. Both were, honestly, too nervous now. 

They quickly found their way to his bed. They quickly removed their clothes. They quickly slid beneath the sheets together. This has been the plan. They'd have sex after graduation. Here they were at that moment. Charlie's muscular thighs were settled between her soft ones. He was positioned carefully above her. One of his large calloused hands caressing her breast. They were kissing, slowly now. 

He pulled away and looked at her, "I love you." She smiled, "I love you, too."

In all this he had been so much more nervous than she had. She was so excited to try new things, so ready to sneak out and fool-around, and, while he was also very excited and eager for these things, he was also nervous. He  _ loved _ her so much, and he knew they had very different plans after graduation. He was so worried he was going to lose her. He shut his eyes and sighed. 

Tonks cupped his cheek, running a thumb along his scruffy jawline. "What is it, Charlie?" 

He gulped, "I'm not ready. I'm so nervous. We don't know what's going to happen this summer. I'm going to be gone the whole time. Will you really be able to visit? What if I end up getting a full-time job there? Will we have a long-distance relationship? Will you want to be with me while I'm so far away?"

Tonks kissed his lips sweetly, "It's okay. I love you. We'll figure everything out. They need Auror in Romania, too. I love you. I'll love you forever."

He rested his head against her shoulder, "You're not upset about not…"

She cut him off with an indignant, "No! Plus, you know I only get upset when you steal all the covers and leave me freezing. That's why I brought my own!"

He laughed softly and rolled off of her, lying closely at her side. She nuzzled into his chest warm and broad and strong and fuzzy with lots of red chest hair. She felt so comfortable and content in his arms. She drifted off to sleep before him, and he kissed her forehead, trying not to worry about their future.


	42. Accidental Mind Reading

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape finds he can hear all of Nymphadora Tonks’ thoughts.

Snape didn’t understand why things couldn’t ever be easy or simple or anything of the sort. No, instead, for him, there always had to be some weird thing going on, something bizarre that made the simplest things much harder.

Sitting in an Order meeting, Snape was, well, fucking exhausted. He’d spent the previous evening under the Cruciatus curse and his mind was tired and his defences were low. He knew that in an Order meeting he could let his guard down, no one here was able to enter his mind and no one here had interesting enough thoughts that they slipped into his own. But then, it seemed that the newest member, a former student, Nymphadora Tonks did have interesting thoughts. Thoughts that wouldn’t shut up. 

The fist tirade of thoughts was:  _ “Oh, God. I’m so fucking hungry. I could eat an entire loaf of bread with sundried tomatoes. I need to pick up some mead before I head home.” _

They were  _ so _ loud, Snape thought she was talking to him. He tried to block it out; he tried to close his mind off. 

One: He didn’t want to hear her thoughts. 

Two: He didn’t want to hear her thoughts without consent. 

Three: He didn’t want to hear  _ her  _ thoughts.

As the meeting began and people chatted, her thoughts were a bit quieter, but, then, they got louder and more visual. Suddenly, he saw an image of her, sitting atop a man in what must have been her flat. He inwardly groaned, he really, _ really  _ didn’t want to see this, but, then, his curiosity peaked when he realized that HE was the man.  _ What the fuck? _ He thought. He squeezed the bridge of his nose and tried, again, to push her thoughts out, and then he heard her moaning and himself, or some version of himself, groaning beneath her as she rode him in a plush velour blue armchair. He saw his own face contouring in pleasure. He saw her and her full tits bouncing gloriously in his face. 

He pushed himself away from the table; he had to get out of this room. As he walked away, he heard,  _ “Lord. I want to fuck that man.” _ And he almost choked on his own spit as he quickly raced to the door. 

To his horror, she’d followed him, “Are you alright?” At first, he wasn’t sure if it was her speaking to him or her thoughts he was hearing. 

He furrowed his brow and nodded, “Yes. It’s just very loud in there.”

She nodded, “Indeed. Eh, you want to skive off and get a drink? The meeting is practically over.” 

He heard her voice inside his head say, “ _ Maybe I can get you to go home with me and I can ride your inevitably massive long, thick cock.” _

Snape, terrified and completely convinced there was no way this young attractive woman wanted to fuck him, shook his head, “No. I need to get back to Hogwarts.”

As he turned to leave, he heard the thoughts,  _ “Looks like it’s the fingers again tonight, Tonks. Maybe I can morph my face to look like Snape and have him say wickedly nasty things to me instead.” _

He turned around to look at her, but she was heading back into the meeting. 


	43. A Draco Cookie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luna and Draco share a moment.

Every year, Draco Malfoy was invited to Harry and Ginny Potter's Halloween party. In fact, he was invited to all their parties. It would have been rude for him not to attend them, so he begrudgingly came to each and everyone: He sat in the corner alone, and he didn’t interact with anyone unless forced to.

He was slouched in a corner chair when Luna Lovegood, of all people, came and sat next to him. She did this at practically every party they attended together. He never spoke to her and she never spoke to him, but she sat there and kept him company. If he got up to get a drink, he’d bring her back one, too. If she got up to get something to eat, she’d bring him back a plate.

Tonight, as it was a Halloween party, she was dressed up like a cat or a dragon or a fairy maybe, perhaps it was a mix of all three. He was Dracula, which meant he essentially looked exactly like himself but he had a set of plastic fangs in.

“Hello, Dracula…” Luna’s sing-song voice jarred him and he just stared at her.

She giggled a bit. “Hmmm. I wonder how our conversation will go tonight. Perhaps you’ll actually talk to me! Maybe you'll try to convince me you don’t like me or my company and that you want me to go away.” She smiled at him warmly. 

When she spoke again she’d lowered her voice to imitate him, “Go away, Looney. You’re obnoxious and weird and I hate you.” 

She changed her voice to her own again, “No. No you don’t, Draco. In fact, I think you like me, which is why you don’t mind me sitting here every time the Potter’s throw a party.” 

Draco glared at her and shrugged, “I don’t mind it, no.”

Luna laughed, and mimicked him, “I don’t mind it, no.” She shook her head and smiled, “You’re such a tough cookie. I’ll crack you, yet. 

Draco let a smile crack his lips, “Have at it, Luna.”


	44. A Beautiful Shade of Violet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus and Tonks await some test results

Remus Lupin ran his hands against the thighs of his trousers. He looked as if he were going to vomit. "Okay. Do it." 

His wife, the young and vibrant Nymphadora Tonks, picked up the small half-full vial sitting on the coffee table in their living room. She tossed it up in the air, caught it, winked at her husband and walked towards the bathroom.

Moments later she came back and set the now-full vial on the table. The liquid was clear. If it turned yellow—not pregnant. If it turned purple—pregnant. 

Remus had read the instructions, too. He knew how long it would take but nerves made him chatty, "3 minutes?"

Tonks nodded, "Yup! Something like that, maybe we should just go into the kitchen and ma—"

She was abruptly cut off by a sharp gasp, "That...that is a beautiful colour." 

Tonks glanced at her husband and then at the vial he was staring at. The liquid had gone from clear to a bright violet. 

Tonks laughed happily. "That is a much brighter colour than expected!" She changed her own hair colour to match the colour in the vial. 

Remus wrapped his arms around his wife. He was nervous and completely unsure about this, but he was also unbelievably excited. This was  _ his  _ family—family full of love and understanding and acceptance. 

He squeezed her arm, as he pulled her closer to him. They watched as the colour swirled around and seemed to shimmer in the vial. "This baby will be part metamorphmagus and part Maurader...should I be worried about the behaviour of this child? They are going to be an absolute handful." He teased her and placed a kiss on the top of her hand.

She giggled in return and changed her hair to green, "Is the grass green, Remus? Is the grass green?" 


	45. Your Cup of Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Hermione and tea.

Draco Malfoy was, for lack of a better phrase, a morning person. When he woke up, he  _ woke _ up. He was cheerful. He was chatty. He was a happy camper. Every morning, he’d wake up before Hermione. He’d lie there and read. He’d glance at his wife and smile to himself, amazed how her pretty face looked even prettier each day. And, when she woke up, he’d kiss her forehead or cheek. He’d say, “Good morning, beautiful!” He’d then, if it was a workday, immediately get up and begin preparing for the day ahead. He’d start telling her about what he was reading, about what he was going to do at work, and about his dreams. Draco woke up a man happy to be alive. 

Hermione Granger woke up every morning amazed at how someone could wake up like that. She was a slow morning person. She would wake up, spot her husband reading, and then shut her eyes again. She’d feel his warm lips pressed to her cheek while she dozed in and out of sleep. When she did actually wake up, she was always amazed at how cheerful and chatty her husband was. He was like this almost every morning and, every morning, it amazed her. 

Draco always made her tea in the morning without fail; he did it perfectly, but he did it by magic.

So, when Hermione decided that they should have a Magic-Free Weekend, Draco was a bit stumped when it came to making tea that morning.

Hermione sat up in the cosy bed at the Muggle home they’d rented for the weekend and read a book waiting for her husband to bring her tea. She waited and waited and finally made her way to the kitchen, curious as to what was taking him so long. They had, after all, planned to ravish one another after their tea, so what was he waiting on? 

She found her husband, clad in boxer shorts and t-shirt, leaned up against the counter rubbing his head. “Whaisit?” Hermione asked, pressing her face between his shoulder blades.

“I don’t know how to do this without magic.” 

Hermione pulled away and propped herself up on the kitchen counter. “You’re kidding me?”

Draco shook his head in disappointment in himself, “Shush, my mum never taught me the Muggle way.”

Hermione furrowed her brow. “Oh. Right, well, it’s simple, love. I can show you.” He sighed and stepped over to her, placing himself cosily between her thighs. “Let’s skip the tea, eh?”

“Did you have something else in mind?”

Draco nuzzled into her neck and nodded, pressing his lips to her neck and then her collarbone.


	46. The Late Night Diner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron and Pansy grab some late-night grub.

Ron and Pansy weren’t in a relationship. Nope. Nothing like that. Nothing of the sorts. They hung out in the same friend group, and, thus, inevitably spent a lot of time together. They’d gotten drinks a number of times by themselves, which often led to late night greedy spoon diners, where Ron could dive into a platter of hashbrowns loaded with cheese and onions and chilli. 

“Chili?” Pansy inquired, as Ron shovelled food into his mouth, he was hoping to avoid a hangover, Pansy was still pleasantly buzzing from their night out. 

“Yeah, Pans. Chilli is excellent on it. You should try it. Want a bite?”

Pansy shook her head, “No. I’ll stick with my waffle. Thank you.” 

Ron’s phone buzzed in his coat pocket which Pansy had worn on the walk to the diner, but, now, as they were inside, it lay on the booth next to her. “Will you grab that for me? It’s probably Harry.” 

“Keep your mouth closed while you’re chewing, you pig.” She teased, as she crammed her hand into his coat pockets and pulled out the phone, by the time she grabbed it, it had stopped buzzing. She held the phone in her hand and stared at the screen. 

“Ron! I’m your lock screen?”

Ron, mid-chew stopped chewing abruptly. He swallowed hard, sobering up quite quickly. It was understood that the two of them absolutely did not, not at all, have feelings for each other. They hung out, they laughed, they kissed a time or two, but that was that. 

Ron turned as red as his hair, and Pansy delighted in seeing him like this. “You..you weren’t supposed to see that.”

“No?”

“Nope.” 

“Why am I your lock screen?”

Ron pushed his plate away from him and took a deep breath, “Because you have a lovely face, and I like to see it when I’m not with you. I like to be reminded of you when we’re not together. There. I said it. Don’t be mad at me.”

Pansy smiled, reached into her pocketbook, grabbed her phone, and shoved her phone across the table at him. “Tap it.”

Ron, with his index finger, tapped her screen. A smile grew across his face when he saw that her lock screen was a picture of the two of them from several months ago. 


	47. A Metaphorical Golden Snitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione visits Viktor after the war.

The war had ended, Hermione's first decision once the dust, literal and metaphorical, had settled was to find Viktor Krum.

When Hermione wore the Horcrux, and once she learned of what it did, how it manipulated and twisted one's heart's desires against you, she recognized her feelings for Viktor. 

She thought of him constantly, as it were: She thought of the moments in the stacks of the library where he, so much more experienced than her, would tenderly kiss her; she thought of the moment she placed his hand on her inner thigh, outside by the lake, in the cold, warmed by fire, and begged him to touch her—he was so careful and cautious with her; she thought of the letters they shared, the few days she spent with him in France, the plans for her to visit in Bulgaria; she thought of how differently things would have been had You-Know-Who not existed.

There was a short period, there in the woods, when she thought she loved Ron. Afterall, Ron was easy. But, when she put on the Horcrux, she couldn't help but think about all the women she knew Krum was fucking back in Bulgaria. When she wore it, she was convinced, absolutely convinced, that he had joined the Death Eaters; she just knew he was taking advantage of all the beautiful young Muggle girls, helpless to his advances, and that he was sharing his bed with a different beautiful pure-blood witch each night. 

She told herself, if she survived the war, she would find him.

***

He was easy to find. He was playing again. All she had to do was go to his practice field one day, and he'd be there for her to see and greet. 

Upon arriving at the pitch, she watched him fly for a while.

He spotted someone in the stands watching him. He landed and walked towards the stands, broom in hand. It didn't take him long to realize who it was. The hair. The figure. The posture. It was Hermione Granger. 

Krum's stomach dropped and his heart rate picked up, as it did when he was about to catch a snitch. Perhaps, he was about to right now. 

She didn't know how to react as he stepped towards her. There were so many things she wanted to say, but she couldn't form a single word. 

He held out his broom and gestured to the sky above. "Will you go with me? I have a small cabin atop that mountain. We can fly there."

She found her voice, but it was small and timid, "I'm terrified of flying."

A smile broke across his face, "I know, my Hermione. I did not forget. It'll be fine, as long as you hold my hand. Let me experience the sky with you."

She felt her breath catch, and she nodded. They straddled the broom, he reached back and grabbed her hand, wrapping it around his middle and holding it there with one hand, while he grasped onto the handle of the broom with the other. 

He rose into the air, and she shut her eyes pressing her check to the space between his shoulder blades. He smelled the same to her. He was all fire and cedar, and she breathed him in deeply. After a few moments, she found the courage to open her eyes and was amazed at the beauty that was the stars in the sky. 

Krum flew smoothly and gracefully, and when they landed, she wouldn't have known had she not been watching. 

He helped her off the broom and immediately took her into his arms. She flung her arms around his neck and stared into his dark and handsome face. 

"Viktor…" she began

But he was overwhelmed and bent down and captured her lips before she could continue. Her whole body ignited as he kissed her. Her belly was burning, and her center tingled. He pulled away. "I'm sorry. I just needed to kiss you."

She blushed and fumbled a bit her words, "Don't apologize. I came here to tell you…" She paused and played with the hair on the back of his neck. "I have thought of nothing but you. I, Merlin, I love you, Viktor. I need you to know that." 

He smiled, lighting up his face. "I've loved you since I first saw you pouring over books in the library. Your face shining. Your mind buzzing. I've needed you for so long, Hermione." 

She bobbed up and down on her heels a bit, "I'm all yours, then." 


	48. Legal Guardian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus and Sirius and baby Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to the wonderful [brandonstrayne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrandonStrayne/profile) for betaing this drabble. I have never written this pairing before. They are my good friend and beta's OTP. I am in constant awe of the support and friendship from [adavison](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adavison/profile), so this drabble is a gift to her!

Remus Lupin had been having a shit month to begin with, but it wasn't anything compared to what had just happened.

Lily and James were dead. Peter was being taken off by Dementors. Voldemort and Death Eaters were still at large. 

He and Sirius left with a one-year-old Harry. 

Sirius was, by law, Harry's Godfather and, now, his guardian. Remus was not legally Harry's guardian but based on his intimate romantic relationship with Sirius, he was now an integral parental figure for Harry. 

The Aurors had suggested that they take what they could of Harry's things and get him to the safe house they had set up for them as soon as possible as it was essential Harry be taken to a calm and nurturing environment. Not to mention, he needed to be as far away as possible from Death Eaters and Voldemort.

Remus quickly apparated to the flat the men shared together to throw together the essentials they would need. He wasn't even thinking as he threw things in bags; he was just trying to hold it together. 

Between the two of them, Remus was the calm one, the voice of reason, the one who let things just roll off his back. He supposed this was because it was so much a contrast to his wolf side. Whatever it was, he knew that he had to keep a level head as Sirius was going to be out of sorts for a long time over James' death, not to mention suddenly becoming Harry's father-figure. 

Later that night, they were settled into the safe house and Harry was asleep on Remus's chest. Sirius sat next to Remus on the couch, tears in his eyes. Both of them just looked at one another and then at Harry. Sharing the enormity of the moment silently.

The two men didn't know what they were in for. They didn't know the number of nights they'd rock Harry in this very spot. 

Remus laid his free hand on the couch, his palm up, waiting for Sirius to accept the silent invitation. It wasn’t long before Sirius placed his hand in his boyfriend's. "I'm sorry I'm so scared. This is all so scary. Not just You-Know-Who, but Harry. I'm a parent. I don't know how to parent. I have a motorbike. I love to drink Firewhisky. I'm still so fucking immature myself." 

Remus managed a small smile to comfort Sirius. "You don't have to be. Not as long as I'm here. We're in this together." 

"You promise?"

"Of course. Except when it's time to potty-train him. That's all on you. I'm not doing that. I'll do the rest of it." 

Sirius barked a laugh and both men froze when Harry made a small sound and nuzzled himself against Remus's chest again. Sirius silently breathed with relief and whispered, "I'm going to teach him how to turn into an Animagus first. That way he can just run outside and piss on a tree. Eh? Eh?"

Remus tilted his head back against the couch and chuckled silently. "Ohhhh. You're going to make a remarkable parent." 


	49. A Morning Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus upsets Tonks. The pair come up with a way for him to make it up to her.

Nymphadora Tonks enjoyed running. She wasn't great at it, though. Once, she read an article that women with wider hips weren't very fast runners and oftentimes struggled with running due to it. Essentially, anyone with a larger bone structure wasn’t an ideal runner. It's why someone like Percy Weasley was excellent at running; he had a small frame which made him lithe. 

She knew she was a slow runner, humorously slow for someone who regularly ran.

Her soulmate/friend/not-boyfriend, Severus in his thickly crass humour, made a comment right before she left to go run one morning. "See you in a few hours, I suppose."

"Oh, I'm not going for too long of a run, just 5k."

"Right. So, see you in a few hours. Sloths run faster than you, Dora." He didn't look up when he said this; he just kept reading The Prophet.

"You're an arsehole."

He dropped the paper, "What? It's a joke. You  _ are _ slow. There’s nothing wrong with it. You talk about it all the time."

Tonks rolled her eyes, made a face at him, and slammed the door as she walked out of the house into the cold morning air.

***

Severus knew that she ran 5k in around 50 minutes. He checked the clock and saw she'd been gone for a touch over an hour. He peaked out the front window and saw her lying in the grass. 

When he opened the door, the frigid air hit him, and his legs, exposed in just his boxers, were instantly cold. Even though she was dressed for the weather, he knew she had to be freezing.

“Dora. Come on. Come inside. I’m sorry.”

She sat up and huffed, “I’m not coming in. Not until you apologise.”

Severus made a face at her, “I just said I’m freaking sorry.”

"‘You did? I’m sorry I wasn’t listening. My hearing is sloowwwwwwww likkkkkkkkke a sllllllooooth.” She then smiled sarcastically at him. 

“I am sorry for saying you were a sloth, alright? It was just a joke. I didn’t know you’d get upset.”

She stood up and turned her backside towards him, “Do I have anything on my arse?” 

He shut his eyes. She loved to torture him. She knew they were trying to not get too  _ involved _ and yet she was always making it hard for him not to stare at her lovely body. He wished to peel her running legging off of her and lick her clean, but he would not. Or maybe he would. Who knows. 

“No. Nothing there.”

“Excellent. Now. How are you going to grovel? You need to make it up to me for being a cock-up.” 

“Breakfast? Coffee? A bagel sandwich?”

She stood close and leaned in to him, “Mmmmmm. Delicious.” She reached out and playful swotted his exposed thigh, “Aren’t you cold?” 

He nodded, “Indeed.”

“Well…” she began, “I’m going to peel off these sweaty clothes and go take a nice hot shower. Perhaps...you should join me. That’s a better way to apologise than breakfast, don’t you think?”

Taking in a sharp breath, he caved, “Fine. Yes. Shower. But, let _ me _ peel your clothes off, instead.” 

“Then breakfast.”

“What? No. You can’t get both.”

She winked as she turned to go into the house, “Yes, I can.”

_ Indeed you can _ , he thought.


	50. Complimenting the Princess of Gryffindor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Draco unwind after a long day at work.

"Collins is the biggest arsehole in the whole world!" Hermione Granger exclaimed as she flopped into the chair across from Draco at their favourite pub. She gulped down half of her drink in record time. 

Draco nodded in agreement. "Who does he think he is? Hmm? Insulting the Princess of Gryffindor?"

She glared at him, "If you're not going to side with me, then you can just find another table."

"I  _ am _ siding with you. I was just teasing. He's insolent."

She pointed her finger at him as she drank some more and nodded. "That's the perfect word for it! He is! He thinks he knows everything. He thinks that because he's so much older than me and because he's been working in the department for so long that he has all the right answers all the time and frankly—"

Draco cut her off, "But, you do! You have all the right answers all the time." Hermione shot him a death glare and Draco howled with delight. He laughed harder when she got up and moved to the table next to theirs. 

"Hermione. Relax. You know I'm joking. Come on."

She made a face at him and stuck out her tongue. 

"Now, now, Miss Granger. Immature is not something I'd mark you as." He got up and joined her at the new table. 

Cocking her head to the side, "What would you mark me as?"

Draco ran his hand against his chin, feeling the light stubble that was now there, "Hmmm…" 

He held up his index finger, "Intelligent."

His middle finger, "Compassionate."

His ring finger, "Courageous."

His pinky finger, "Innovative."

His thumb, "Hard-working." 

He then said, "Oh! I almost forgot." He lifted his other hand and held up his index finger, "Sexy."

Hermione leaned forward and swatted his arm. "I believed you to be sincere right up to that moment." 

He gave her a face of indignation, "I am being sincere about all those things."

"I'm not sexy. I'm the least sexy person alive. I'm swotty and bookish. I have unmanageable hair, a boring face, and my body is less than ideal." 

Draco shook his head, "You're unbelievable." 

"You think I was giving myself too much credit?"

"Merlin, no. Hermione. Everything about you is sexy." He began ticking off on his fingers again, and Hermione flushed as he did so. "Your brain is the sexiest thing ever. You are wildly intelligent. No one else stimulates me mentally like you do." He paused and winked at the word "stimulates". 

"Aside from that, physically? Your hair is sexy. Your voice is sexy. Your arse is…" He imitated a chef's kiss, "sexy. Your lips. Your freckles. Your nose. Hell, your feet probably are."

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and chuckled. Overwhelmed with his compliments. 

"Hermione, you're the whole bloody package. You're perfect."

She whispered, "Thank you."

He smiled wickedly, "You're welcome. Now, you tell me all the things you find sexy about me." He winked and she rolled her eyes. 

She mulled it over, swishing her drink around in her mouth, "How humble you are."


	51. Feelings Feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-war where Luna and Harry are the best of friends.

Harry and Luna sat at her breakfast nook. They typically had breakfast on Sunday mornings. She would always make some new odd dish that was absolutely decadent, and the pair would simply discuss their weekend, their upcoming week, etc. 

Over the past several months, Harry began to realize something that scared him. He had feelings for Luna, and not just feelings because she was one of his best friends and he cared for him a great deal but _feelings_ feelings. He would often find himself staring at her lips as she spoke or admiring the colour of her eyes or wishing to pluck wildflowers and place them in her hair. 

Finally, after a long discussion with Ron and Hermione, he decided he was going to ask Luna out on a date; however, as they sat together on this morning, he had convinced himself that there was simply no way she was going to agree to go on a date with him.

Luna set down her cup of tea and cocked her head to the side curiously, “Harry…”

With a bite of food in his mouth, Harry replied, “Hmmm?”

“You seem a bit off. Like there’s something on your mind.”

Harry nodded, he ran a hand through his hair and shrugged. All of his body language pointing towards his dilemma. He knew that she knew something was off with him. How was he going to wiggle out of this now? “Yeah. There is. There’s been something I’ve wanted to ask you about.”

Luna smiled her warm, beautiful smile and Harry felt his heart melt at the sight. “Ask away.” 

"If I asked, you'd say no." Harry felt his cheeks flush and his heart rate quickened with nerves.

"You don't know that."

He cleared his throat, “Okay. Here goes. Would you like to...go out...on a date...with me?”

Luna raised her eyebrows and “Oh!”

“Nevermind. I’m sorry. It was a stupid idea.” He began fiddling with the food on his plate, pushing it around to distract himself. 

Luna reached across the table and ran her fingers along Harry’s free hand, “I’d love to, Harry. I’d really love to.” 


	52. Squirrel Watching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of chapter forty-seven, where Sirius is the legal guardian of baby Harry

Sirius wasn't great at parenting. Well, he didn't think he was good at it—some days he wasn't quite sure what to do with Harry. Remus was so good at all the nurturing stuff. Remus was so good at playing. Sirius felt like he came up short a lot of the times. But, truth be told, Sirius  _ was  _ great at parenting. He loved Harry so much, and sometimes, to Sirius and to Harry, even though he was too little to express it, the best days were the days where they didn't have things planned.

Remus was off doing something for the Order and, so, Sirius decided he and Harry would just go outside of the house provided for them. They'd given them a house with a large yard, magically hidden with tons of wards. They were virtually untraceable. 

Harry ran around and tumbled around in the soft grass. Finally, Harry was ready for a snack. He tottled over to Sirius, held out his hand, and said loudly and with command, "Strawbees!" 

Sirius chuckled at the way Harry said the word. He found it absolutely adorable. He set a container of cut up strawberries in front of Harry. Harry clapped his hands excitedly and began munching. 

Harry suddenly pointed to the roof and squealed, "Squeeeer!" 

Sirius and Harry enjoyed watching the squirrels. Really, Harry had started it. Laughing at them every time they ran by in a scurry. Once they watched as a squirrel continuously dropped an acorn off the ledge of the roof. The squirrel, determined to get it's acorn, would scuttle back to the ground, find its acorn, get back on the roof, and drop the acorn. This happened at least two times. "The squirrel can't win!" Sirius guffawed with laughter, and wh Harry didn't quite get the humor yet, he, too, roared with laughter, more at the sound of Sirius' laughter than anything else. 

Today, a squirrel was running up one side of the chimney and then down the other side over and over. 

Sirius leaned towards Harry, "Where's the squirrel, Harry?" 

Harry pointed and bounced in delight, "Right der! Right der!"

"Ohhh! Seriously, the chimney? This squirrel might be mental." 

Harry giggled a bit more watching the animal, and leaned his plump body against Sirius, shutting his eyes and relaxing. Sirius, too, laid back in the grass; Harry resting against him. The squirrel nestled atop the chimney, dangerously in the keg, and he, too, took a mid-afternoon nap. 


	53. Hogwarts: A History

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Hermione do some packing

Draco walked through his girlfriend's small flat looking for her, "Hermione!" 

The couple were moving in together in a few days, and Hermione, as usual, had been slammed with work. Draco had done most of the moving himself; he'd sold Malfoy Manor, and the pair bought a cosy cottage with enough space for a shared office and an extra bedroom that could be turned into a nursery several years from now. 

Draco had become quite the handyman fixing up their new little home, but he couldn't pack up all of Hermione's things for her. She has to decide what came with them and what didn't. When she finally had an open Sunday, she set to work in her bedroom, while Draco packed up all the obvious things—her books, for instance. 

"Hermione!" He called again. 

"Yeah?" She set down a t-shirt she was holding and set it in the donation pile.

"Why do you have so many copies of  _ Hogwarts: A History?" _

She shrugged, "I don't have that many." 

Draco scoffed, "Hermione! You have 32!"

"I do not." She shook her head and picked up another shirt. 

"I'll prove it!" He gestured towards the door of her closet and towards the living room. 

She furrowed her brow, "So what if I do?" 

He shrugged this time, "I just want to know why you have so many, that's all." 

Walking past him and into the living room, she examined the contents of the box labelled, "Hogwarts: A History". She was amused that one whole box was dedicated to the book. 

Draco walked in and felt his heart warm as he watched her look through the books, a smile spread across her face "Why does that book mean so much to you?" 

Her hand ran along the spine of one of the copies. "It was the first book I read after I got my letter. Professor McGonagall delivered my letter to me, to explain everything and such; I asked her if there were any books I could read over the summer. She owled me this copy that evening. I finished it, and I read it again immediately after. For years, I slept with it under my pillow. When we were on the run, I'd read it as solace. Anytime I go somewhere and find a copy of it, I buy it. So, I guess, we'll have 32 copies of it."

He shook his head, "No. We'll have 34."

She quirked an eyebrow, "34?"

"Well, there's my copy, obviously. And…" He gestured towards the box again and muttered " _ Revelio." A _ gift, wrapped in gold appeared on the table next to the book.

"What's this?" Hermione inquired. 

Shrugging at her, Draco smiled. She carefully unwrapped the gift to find her fingers running along a very old, very fragile copy of her favourite book. "Is this a first edition?"

Draco beamed, "Yes! Wait, are you crying?" 

She laughed a little, wiping a tear away, "Yes! I mean, this book means so much to me. To have a first edition...Oh, thank you!"

He walked over to her and hugged her, "You're welcome."


	54. As Small as a Rosebud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron and Hermione discuss an important change.

Ron beamed at Hermione as she handed him a small, black and white, moving picture, "So, this is...this is  _ our  _ baby! This tiny little rosebud! Healer Mullins is certain?"

"That's what she said. It's hard to believe isn't it?" Hermione had gone to her healer due to an onslaught of headaches; she expected them to tell her to drink more water, not that she was pregnant. "We all start out so small! It's bizarre."

Ron put an arm around his wife's waist and pulled her onto his lap, "It's just so little and adorable!" 

She bent down and kissed his cheek sweetly. "Indeed. Who would have thought, all those years ago when we met, that now we would be having a baby?"

Ron chuckled, "Not me, but I'm so glad we are."


	55. Nappy Foul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Ron tackle fatherhood.

Harry held out baby James to Ron. Ron tried not to breathe through his nose as he took the baby boy from his best friend. He gulped when Harry said, "Okay, Papa-to-be, change him!" and then grinned wickedly.

Ginny was out having dinner with Hermione, and the two men were hanging out in the Potter's living room. Ron had just been telling Harry that Hermione was pregnant--he was excited to share fatherhood with Harry who was more than happy to introduce Ron to the joys of parenting: First on the list? Dirty nappies.

Ron handed James back to his father. "Oof! No. That's your baby. You change him. That baby smells worse than a Troll's arse. Merlin's balls! That is foul!"

Harry scowled. "You're not mature enough to be a parent, Ron. Poop is part of it. Lots of it. Smelly. Disgusting poop." He shook his head and walked past Ron to James' nursery. 

Sighing, Ron caught up with his friend. "Fine. Try me. Gimme that baby."

Harry cackled as he watched Ron struggling with a squirmy baby--taking off the nappy, cleaning the baby, putting on a new one. 

Ron arose from the changing table with a red-face but looking proud and accomplished. "Why are you laughing?" He inquired. 

A hard laugh shook Harry, "There's a spell, you bloody idiot. You didn't even consider that did you?"


	56. A McGonagall Meet-Cute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McGonagall talks Snape into a date with Tonks

"Well, do you like her?" Minerva McGonagall asked, pouring her colleague another tea.

Severus Snape sneered at her, “Doesn’t everyone like Miss Tonks? Isn’t that her thing? She’s likeable by all?”

Minerva mused and smiled, “Yes. She’s quite likeable, isn’t she? She’s smart and witty and quite charming in an off-beat sort of way, no?” 

The man shrugged as if he hadn’t given it much thought, but he, in fact, had given it a lot of thought. He liked Nymphadora Tonks a whole hell of a lot, and while Severus Snape was many things, he was not someone you just  _ dated;  _ he wasn’t someone you had a  _ crush _ on, at least not a serious one. So, when Minerva made it evident to him that the newest Order Member, pink-haired Aurora, who happened to be his former students had a crush on him, he was, well, he was miffed. He also was completely unwilling to play along with the charade. He assumed whatever it was about him that the girl found attractive would wear off in time and she’d settle for someone much more suitable like Charlie Weasley.  _ Hadn’t they dated anyhow? _ He wondered. Or, perhaps, Remus Lupin.  _ A werewolf is a far more suitable match than a dungeon bat _ , he mused. 

Minerva pushed a tin of biscuits over in front of Severus and he, absentmindedly, grabbed two. “I think you should take the chance. Ask her for drinks after the next meeting. Or, I could even invite her to my office for something and you could just pop in, eh? Then let it go from there.”

Shaking his head, he said, “Are you that bored, Minnie? I mean, honestly. Have you gotten into Flitwick’s romance novels or something?” 

The woman scowled at him, “You need something, boy. You’re depressing me, frankly. Go on a date with her.”

“How can you even be sure she likes me, Minnie?”

“She told me! How many times do I have to tell you this? Have you lost all your senses? I’m going to owl her now.”

“No! Come on. No. It’ll just end badly for me anyhow.”

She grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill. “How about tomorrow evening?” 

He took a gulp of his tea, ‘Uhmmm. Let me think….no.” But it didn’t matter what he was saying, Minerva was furiously scrawling on a piece of parchment, which, before he could even protest further, she’d wrapped around the leg of an owl, gave the owl a biscuit, and smiled wickedly at Severus.

“I’ll see you tomorrow evening, Severus.”

The man took a deep breath and groaned, trying not to show the excitement he felt.


	57. Mario Kart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean introduces Nintendo to the Gryffindor Tower.

Dean Thomas didn't  _ mean  _ to start the craze. He didn't realize the whole Gryffindor Tower would become utterly obsessed with Mario Kart. 

Over Christmas break, Seamus visited Dean for a few days. Dean's grandma still bought Dean Muggle presents, which he didn't mind, as this year she'd given him a Nintendo and several games. Seamus and Dean were booked, and the two figured out how to charm the electronic device to work at Hogwarts. Seamus set to work on finding a television he could charm, as well. When the boys returned to school, in one corner of the common room, they'd set up a few bean bag chairs in front of an end table where they put the television and the game system.

It started off being something that just the pair of them did. Then it spread to Neville, Harry, and Ron. Before they knew it, it had spread to everyone--even Hermione played on occasion. There were often sounds of "Game's over you son of a bitch" from the Weasley twins followed by "Okay, okay, just don't hit me anymore with those blasted banana peels!" from just about anyone they were playing. 

Still though, despite the commotion and popularity of the game, Dean and Seamus still found themselves sneaking into the common room late at night to play against each other, a bowl of snacks between them, and their feet resting against each other under the blanket


	58. Mood Polish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fred and Hermione discuss their Sunday obligations.

Every Sunday, everyone came to The Burrow around noon to spend the day. It was an unspoken requirement, and Molly would fix lunch  _ and  _ dinner. She loved it, and her children and their respective partners never once complained about the fixed weekly obligation, at least, not to her. 

Hermione adored her mother-in-law, absolutely adored her, but after a busy week at the Ministry, she didn’t always want to spend her entire Sunday with her husband’s family. 

That Sunday evening, after they were home, she broached the subject. “Fred…”

  
Fred was painting Hermione’s toenails for her. He and George had been working on a new nail polish that changed colour based on one's mood; he wanted to see if it worked. Hermione was always willing to be the test subject as long as it wasn’t something that was going to make her sick or inflict any physical pain or discomfort. He looked up from the toenail he was painting, “Yes, my lady?”

“Do you ever get...tired of going over to your parents’ house on Sundays? You know, do you ever wish we could just do whatever we wanted on Sundays?” 

“Nah. It makes mum happy.” He bent back down to examine her toes; he noted her big toe turning a dark yellow, which indicated frustration. “Wait, do you not like it?”

Hermione shrugged, “I don’t mind it, but  _ every _ Sunday is a bit much.” 

“It never interferes with anything really.”

She chuckled a little, “You forgot my birthday! We had to spend the whole day there, and while it was lovely, and I appreciate your mum for all she does—you know I do, but I would have liked to have done something with  _ just  _ you.” 

“In my defence, I forget about a lot of things, so maybe I would have forgotten about it, so really you ended up having a much better birthday.”

She scowled at him, “You would not have forgotten my birthday. It would just be nice to not have to do it every Sunday. Maybe every other Sunday, you know?” She switched her feet so he could paint the toes on her other foot.

“Hmmmm,” he said, “Perhaps. Do the others feel this way?” 

Hermione nodded. Fred looked shocked, “They do?”

“It drives Lavender and Oliver bonkers. Oliver would  _ never _ say anything to Percy though, but you can tell. I’m positive Lavender complains about it constantly though, according to Ron.” 

“I’ll talk to mum about it.”

“Yeah? We could even rotate where we go or not have to have both lunch and dinner, just one or the other. You know?” 

Fred nodded and pushed Hermione’s feet off of his lap. “Okay! Let’s see if this polish works. The first emotion we’re going to test out is…. _ horny. _ ”

Hermione blushed a bit, “Fred! You’ll be selling this to children.”

“Well, yes, but it doesn’t say horny on the mood key it says “love,” but, since you love me...it’s one and the same.”

Fred dropped down to his knees by the sofa they were sitting on and pulled Hermione’s legs towards him, gently pushing her knees apart. He smiled wickedly and pushed her dress up her thighs. 


	59. A Steak and Egg Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Parks and Rec-esque AU where Draco is Ron Swanson and Hermione is Leslie Knope and they have a budding romance.

Unfortunately for Draco, he was hungover, and annoyed the moment he woke up — not necessarily  _ because _ he had one, but because he never got them. The fact that his body was somehow susceptible to the Snake Juice concoction the Weasley Twins created bothered him. Also, unfortunately, he was supposed to be doing some stupid camping retreat with his department, a wonderfully obnoxious idea put together by none other than Hermione Granger. He didn’t want to spend his weekend with the people he worked with, but he had to. He was, after all, the boss.

He looked around and realized that he was lying on a couch and that he wasn’t at home; he was in Granger’s.  _ Ugh _ , he thought. He just knew she’d be chipper as hell this morning. He took a deep breath, readying himself for the headache that was about to start pounding when he moved. As he took his deep breath he smelled coffee and steak. His mood shifted a bit and he smiled to himself,  _ Granger may be obnoxious, but she is wise. _ As he got up and went into her kitchen, he didn’t see her, but he saw a plate for him at her breakfast nook, a large steak and not one, not two, not three, but four eggs cooked exactly as he liked them—fried with a runny yolk; he just knew that when his fork punctured the yolks they would be perfect—they were, and the steak was a perfect medium. His coffee was strong and black, but he was still feeling the effects of the Snake Juice when Hermione came in with a paper under one arm and a stack of books under the other. “Morning, Draco!”

He grumbled, “Thank you for…” he gestured towards the table. Words still weren’t coming out as well as he wanted them to. 

“You're welcome!” She replied in such a bright and cheery voice it made Draco want to cry. 

“How are you so… _ you  _ still? You drank just as much.”

  
She shrugged, “No clue. I had my coffee and a bagel. I feel great. Did you not sleep well? I tried to get you to share my bed, but you insisted on the couch. Something about not trusting yourself. I’m not sure what that meant, but I may be misremembering. We were all pretty loaded.” Again, she shrugged as if completely unphased by it all.

He wracked his memory for any interactions the two of them had had the previous evening. He hoped he hadn’t said or done anything to reveal his feelings for her. He tried to keep those as secret as possible.

Hermione sat down at the table across from him, “You need more stamina! We’ve got a fun day ahead of us!”

“A long day.” He retorted, as he suddenly felt like he needed to be more of himself to set things back to normal, ‘No, I need more steak and eggs. So, get on it. Please. That was maybe the best breakfast I’ve had in years.” 

She winked, “Fair enough. But, you’re eating it in the car.” 

“What?” He exclaimed. “You can’t eat steak in the car.”

“Yeah, well, we need to get going soon. We’ve got our paddle boat race at 10 am.”

“Our  _ what _ ?” He asked, horrified. She grinned wickedly at him. “Yeah! You versus me. So, you need all the stamina you can get.”


	60. Family Entertainment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Tonks-Lupin family dance in their living room.

They'd gotten into a petty argument, the type of argument you get in over something as insignificant as why they put the scissors in the kitchen in the wrong place or why they hold their mouth a certain way when they're reading. It's what happens after you've been together for years and despite how much affection you harbour for them, despite how desperately you still love me, they manage to, in the simplest ways, grind on your nerves. 

This was how Tonks currently felt towards her husband. Teddy was blissfully unaware of his parents' tiff, and he was drawing and painting and making an utter mess in his room. Tonks sat in the living room trying to occupy her annoyed mind. Remus was somewhere else in the house, she assumed his office. She hated when they fought, but sometimes he drove her completely bonkers. 

Tonks was thankful for the distraction when Teddy ran into the living room to give her his paintings. "Mummy!" His sweet little voice hollered. His heavy footsteps excitedly pounding against the floorboards. 

"Can you dance with me, Mummy?" He ran over to their record player. Tonks learned a love of Muggle things from her father and passed it on to Teddy. He cut on whatever she'd last played, in this case, it was The Undertones _._

Remus came out from his office and smiled as he watched his wife and their child bouncing and jumping and giggling. He felt her heart swoon as he watched Teddy's hair shift from purple to pink to green and back to his typical blue. 

Tonks bopped over to him and grabbed his hand, pulling him into the middle of the living room with her and Teddy. 

He leaned forward and whispered, "You're not mad?" 

She pecks him on the cheek, and shrugs, "Nah. I love you, you grouch." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested in the song they are dancing to it's "Family Entertainment" by The Undertones.


	61. Smashing Cans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tonks and Charlie engage in friendly loving compet.

Charlie Weasley loved soda. His favourite thing about drinking them was smashing the can afterwards. He couldn't say what exactly it was about it that he loved; he just loved it and the satisfaction of finishing the drink and then crushing the aluminium into a flat circle.

His girlfriend, Nymphadora Tonks, enjoyed the occasional soda, but she'd be damned if she could smash the can like Charlie did. 

With a flick of her wand, the can was squashed. "There. Flatter than yours. I win." The pair were notorious for their constant competitions between one another, it was a wonder they got on as well as they did. 

"Babe, that doesn't count. You can't use magic." 

She stomped her foot and pouted. Charlie smiled at the scene. "You can't smash it. Just admit it." 

"I can. I'll smash it. I swear." She propped her hands on her hips, rising to the challenge. Charlie downed his Coke and set the can in front of her. "Do it, babe! Use those Doc Martens and flatten that can."

Tonks lifted her foot and when her boot hit the can it stopped over and clamoured over on the concrete of the patio. She flailed her hands in the air in frustration, but she was determined to get it. She tried and tried and tried. Finally, Charlie handed over her wand, "You smash it the best you can and we're done."

She sighed, "But if I don't smash it with my foot the best then I don't win. You win!"

Shrugging he smirked, "I've already won. I've got you."


	62. A Moment of Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A moment between Sybill Trewlaney and Severus Snape.

"Severus, move. Please." It was the middle of the night. Sybill was wrapped in the long limbs and arms of her lover and she desperately needed to roll over. It was just one of those things where she woke up very comfortable but then when she realized she'd been in that position for just  _ too _ long and she needed to move as soon as possible.

He'd spent the evening being cursed and occluded, and when he found his way to Sybill, he crashed instantly. Sometimes, the amount of time he spent being occluded made it easier for him to sleep after being  _ Crucioed.  _ Tonight was one of those lucky nights. In the morning, he'd have tremors to deal with, but, for now, he got to sleep. 

Sybill rolled as best as she could so that they were facing each other. As she rolled, his heavy limbs on her, he grumbled, "Why would I move when I'm so comfy?" She laughed a bit to herself at the word "comfy" coming out of Severus Snape's mouth. She peered at him as he dozed, and noticed a deep gash above his brow—she'd have to mend in the morning. She pressed her lips to his nose gently and fell back asleep. Enjoying the moment of peace together, before the daylight shone on the war that was looming.


	63. Pudding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sirius has to have his wisdom teeth removed — a muggle AU

Sirius Black sat in the front passenger seat of his boyfriend's car. It was very early and both men were tired and a little cranky. 

"I'm not going in there. Let's go home." Sirius buckled his seatbelt back, crossed his arms over his chest, and stared forward. 

Remus leaned forward against the steering wheel, his head resting against it. "You're acting like a child. Loads of people have their wisdom teeth removed. You'll be asleep. You'll be high as a kite after. You'll get tons of pudding for the next week.”

Sirius glared at his boyfriend, "I hate pudding."

Rolling his eyes he grumbled, "You liar."

"Yes, well. I do love it, but I don't need a reason to eat it like having teeth cut out of me." 

"Look, Sirius. If you don’t go in and have it done then we’re not going to get a treat after. No wisdom teeth removal? No ice cream, no pudding, no going to get that new record you want.”

Sirius pouted and sighed, “Fine. Fine. Let’s do it” He unbuckled his seatbelt and pointed at Remus, “But I want pudding.”

“I know. I know. There will be pudding waiting for you.” Remus replied chuckling.


	64. Breakfast Sausage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry has a run-in with Hermione’s mum in their kitchen.

Even though Hermione had lived with two boys in a tent for several months, she’d never quite gotten used to how comfortable men were with their own nudity. Even in her relationship with Harry, she was always amazed at how he just walked around naked, as if it didn’t mean a thing to have his penis flapping about as he wandered the house. 

Harry had gotten in late from work; he had busted up a series of young dark wizards, and there was always so much paperwork afterwards. When he’d gotten home Hermione was fast asleep. He stripped his clothes and snuggled into his wife’s warm body and he, too, fell into a deep sleep. The next morning he awoke alone in their bed and made his way to the kitchen. 

His body, broad and toned, glistened in the morning light. Auror training had left him quite fit, and he'd kept it up. He, also, was sporting a bit of morning wood and it bobbed with him as he walked from their bedroom to the kitchen. However, the person waiting for him at the counter was not his lovely Hermione, but her equally lovely, but in an entirely different way, mum. 

“Harry!” Mrs Granger exclaimed. “I’m so sorry!” she sputtered, shocked and taken aback by her son-in-law’s naked form.

“No. No. No.” He said, covered his penis with a frying pan he quickly grabbed from the pot rack. “I’m... _ I'm _ so sorry. I got in late last night. I didn’t know you were here!” 

Mrs Granger covered her eyes and Harry shuffled out of the room and into their bedroom, where he found Hermione flicking her wand and making up their bed. 

He shut their bedroom and hissed embarrassingly, “I really would’ve liked it if you told me your parents were coming to town, Hermione!”

She pursed her lips together trying not to laugh, “It was a bit unexpected, and you were late. I didn’t even hear you come in last night. I’m sorry, darling, but, honestly, I really would’ve liked it if you put pants on before going into the kitchen. Mum sounded a bit shocked. Plus, how many times do I have to tell you that the kitchen probably isn’t the best place for an exposed penis?”

She slipped her hand between his thighs and fondled him gently and teasingly.

“I had a semi! Your mum saw it!” He said in horror.

Hermione shrugged, “Well, now she just knows that you  _ are  _ the chosen one in all areas." She winked at her husband and squeezed him again. 

He groaned as she laughed. “Get dressed, Harry. Let’s go get breakfast out today.” 

As she left their bedroom she turned and said with a wink, "Maybe don't order the sausage at breakfast though." 


	65. Recycled Treasures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Muggle AU where Luna finds a new bedroom accessory for her and Ginny.

Luna burst into her and Ginny’s flat loudly and a bit unexpectedly. Ginny was sitting at the table eating lunch and reading over the playbook for her football practices when her girlfriend came in. 

“Do you remember…”

Ginny held up her finger and finished chewing the almonds she had in her mouth. “Sorry, love. I couldn’t hear you over the crunching. Go on.”

“Okay. Do you remember the man at the grocery? The one I got into an argument with when he called me a crunchy, hairy-armpit, tree hugger?”

Ginny nodded and giggled, “Yes. He’s the one you told he was killing the environment for not using reusable bags.” She imitated her girlfriend, “Well, you’re the one killing the environment, so who’s really in the wrong here?” 

Luna nodded enthusiastically, “Yes! Him! Well, I saw him again at the recycling centre.”

“You did? I thought he told you recycling was rubbish.”

Again, she nodded, “He did, but, turns out, our conversation really impacted him, and he did some of the research I suggested. See? I’m not crazy for talking to everyone about everything. Anyway, look at what he had just dropped off at the centre.”

Luna ran out into the hallway and drug a metal headboard with loops and twirls into their flat. It looked like an antique, and it was absolutely gorgeous. 

“I found it in one of the larger recycling bins. He helped me pull it out, that’s how I know it’s his. I don’t know why he was getting rid of it. It’s perfect. It spoke to me.”

Ginny smiled, “We’ll really need to be sure to clean it up, but I do love it.”

Walking over to her girlfriend, Luna sat on her lap and kissed her on the cheek, “And there are so many perfect places to tie scarves and ropes.” She beamed at Ginny and Ginny felt her face flush with anticipation. 

“Well, let’s get this thing cleaned up now, shall we?”


	66. You Can Bet On That

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fleur and Tonks visit a tattoo parlour.

A lithe, tall, painfully beautiful blonde and a shorter, eccentric, curvy woman with pink-hair sat in the waiting area of the best magical tattoo parlour in London. The blonde turned to the other woman who was obviously pouting and whispered, “We bet. You lost. That’s the rules. You know the rules, Dora.” 

The woman with pink hair wore a denim jacket covered in patches and pins and black jeans that had loads of rips, and if one was to assume, they’d assume that she would be the one of the two who was most likely to get or already have tattoos, but, turns out, she did not, nor was she excited about the idea. Dora groaned and buried her face in her hands, “But tattoos are permanent, Fleur. Permanent. You do know what permanent means, right? Forever.”

Fleur pouted playfully, “But you  _ said _ that you’ll love me forever, so what’s the harm in a little tattoo paying homage to me?” She beamed as she spoke.

Rolling her eyes Dora squeezed the woman’s leg, “Yes. I will, but that doesn’t mean you won’t cock things up on accident and then 'Poof!' you’re gone back to France.”

“You really shouldn’t be so insecure; it’s unbecoming,” Fleur said, rolling her eyes.

Groaning again, Dora ran her fingers through her pink wavy hair, “Please. Don’t say the word “coming”. That’s how we got into this mess.”

“Look, if you’d won, then I’d be getting a tattoo, but I won, so you are.”

“You rigged it, anyhow.”

“Did not. You can’t rig something like that. I simply assumed that if I bent you over my knee and spanked you, you’d get wet. You like it rough, it was a guess.  _ You’re _ the one who made the bet anyway.” Fleur smiled sweetly at her girlfriend. 

“Fine. Fine. I’ll get the bloody tattoo.” She sighed and leaned back in the chair. Then she paused and held up a finger, “Let’s make another bet. If I don’t cry while getting jabbed with a needle over and over, you have to spank me again when we get home.”

Fleur smiled and her cheeks became tinged with excitement, “I’ll spank you whenever you want, Miss Tonks. You  _ can  _ bet on that.”


	67. Expectant Parents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Hermione prepare for the birth of their son.

"Hermione, there's about fifty things we have to finish before morning!” Draco Malfoy yelled as he went searching for his wife; in the morning, they were to go in and induce labour. Their baby was perfectly content inside his mummy and didn’t seem to see the point in leaving his cosy home anytime soon. Tomorrow would be the thirteenth day past Scorpius Malfoy’s due date.

Draco was an anxious mess, whereas Hermione seemed to have entered a state of blissfully not worrying about anything. Draco found her lying in their bed watching the Muggle television she’d rigged up and eating cold pizza. 

He stood on the threshold and began to list off all the things they needed to be doing: “We’ve got to double-check to make sure Crooks hasn’t been sleeping in the baby’s crib again, and, if he has, we need to clean and change the sheets. We’ve got to double-check your bag, my bag, and the baby’s bag. We’ve got to make sure Harry knows how to get past all our wards to take care of Crooks and the plants. We’ve got to make sure my mum and your mum know when they’re allowed on the ward. We’ve got to make…”

Hermione muted the television and glared at her husband, “Then you can do those things, Draco. I’m done doing things. I’m going to sit here until it’s time for us to leave tomorrow morning. I’m not doing anything. I’m not going to stress out or worry about a single thing. I’m going to eat my pizza and watch this show and probably cry a bit from hormones over some stupid commercial. Now, please, either be quiet or leave.” 

“Can you quit being so sassy?” Draco muttered. “I’m nervous, alright? I don’t know what you need me to do, so I’m trying to do everything I can think of.” He ran his fingers through his hair and let out a long, slow breath. 

Adjusting herself on the bed as best she could, Hermione sighed and looked affectionately at him, “I  _ need  _ you to stop being so controlling. Okay? Everything is done. We just wait now. This time tomorrow we’ll have our baby boy. Relax. Go grab a slice of pizza and come watch this show with me.”

He nodded, “Okay. You want another piece, love?”

Unmuting the television Hermione shoved the last bite of pizza into her mouth and nodded “Yes”.


	68. The Third Member

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus and Severus embark on a polyamorous relationship.

Remus Lupin walked into the bedroom he and his boyfriend shared. When he saw the skin-tight black jeans, the worn down band t-shirt, the leather jacket, the low bun, Remus was almost instantly hard. He exclaimed, "You can't go out with her looking like that. You're changing your outfit, now!"

"You look  _ too _ good! If she's going to be the third member of our relationship, she can't prefer you to me. My God, Severus. Down play it a little."

Severus looked over the woman's profile on his phone, "I'm sure this….Miss Tonks, will prefer you to me anyhow."

Remus shrugged. "I don't know. When you wear those tight jeans…"

Severus chuckled, "Are you getting jealous?"

Remus thought for a bit. He stepped to his boyfriend and kissed him, "Maybe a little. I don't want her to steal you away from me"

Severus wrapped his arms around the man's waist pulling him close, "No. No, love. We're all in this together. I love you. I want her to love you, too." 


	69. The Potter Children Are Wild AF

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry misses Ginny

Harry loved his wife, and he absolutely loved her career. She was the epitome of badass--an amazing Quidditch player, an amazing mum and wife and daughter and everything under the sun. Harry would be the first to tell you that Ginny was the most powerful and wonderful person he knew.

Some days, when she was training or away at a match, he missed her so deeply that he couldn't bear it. She was currently away for several weeks in Ireland for training. He saw her in everything their babies did, and on days like this one, where their children were, well, wild and unruly, he  _ really  _ missed her. He was, overall, a great father, but he wasn’t the best disciplinarian, and their children knew that about him. 

For ease of communication, the pair got mobile phones. After all three children were fed and bathed and asleep, Harry laid in their bed and texted her:

Harry: hi babe

Harry: i miss u

Harry: what time is it there?

Harry: tell me everything about your day

Ginny: You're absurd. We're in the same time-zone! But, I miss you, too. 

Ginny: My day was great. I’ll tell you all about it, but first, how are my babies?

Harry: the potter children are wild af, gin call if u can

Ginny: Haha. Of course. I’m going to call as soon as I get out of this ice bath.

Harry: kk babe


	70. A New Position

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Severus try a new position.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In celebration of day 69....

Hermione was rather inexperienced sexually when she and Severus got together. She was even more inexperienced with being _ wanted _ and  _ desired;  _ she wasn’t quite sure what to think about it all--she was hard pressed to believe he was as physically attracted to her as he said he was. There were times when she had a hard time “getting out of her own head,” so to speak, but she was always amazed at how patient and hard Severus worked to relax and assure her of herself.

One thing she had gotten quite good at was blow jobs, and she was surprised to find how thoroughly she enjoyed giving them. The moment her mouth met his cock, she was instantly wet. 

She mused this thought one night in bed as her mouth met the warm head of his cock. She pulled away slightly and got lost in a train of thought-- _ was there a biological purpose for a woman to get aroused while giving fellatio or…. _

"Hermione?" Severus' deep voice pulled her out of her train of thought, "Quit flirting with my cock. It's cruel." He chuckled at his statement which quickly turned into a growl as his witch ran her lips down his length, her hand cupping his balls and squeezing them lightly. After some time, he reached down and tugged her up towards him. 

Her head popped up from his lap, "Is it not good?" She was instantly flooded with concerns of failure, of being unable to satisfy--not that he'd ever made her feel that way before, but it was something she was worried about due to her lack of experience; she wanted to please and she wanted to excel, especially in this area. 

Severus shook his head quickly, "No, no, no, my sweet witch. You are, as ever, a goddess with that mouth. I didn't mean to worry you."

She nodded, believing him. He continued. "I don't want you to stop doing what you're doing. Fuck, no. But I'd like to be licking your moist little cunt while your mouth is on me.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow curiously. This wasn't something they'd done before. "Crawl up to me, Hermione," he instructed.

She crawled over to him and sat back on her heels beside his shoulders. Her legs were spread slightly, and he could see the glistening of her centre; her nipples were a beautiful brown colour and pebbled tightly. He was engrossed with her. "Straddled my face, like you would my hips when you ride me. Hover over me so I can see you and smell you and taste you."

Hermione cleared her throat, she wasn’t lithe; while she was short in stature, she was not the cultural-norm of petite. She was worried about her size at this moment, her wide hips, her thicker thighs, her large arse. Severus read the expression on her face. “Stop it, love. Please. I want, no I need, you to sit on my face.”

“Are you sure?” She fiddled with the sheet pooled at her side.

He reached over and ran his hands along her legs and squeezed her gently, “Merlin, yes. You’re stunning.”

She took a deep breath and nodded. "Alright, then." She smiled at him. Her heart was pounding. Next to sucking his cock, having him between her thighs was her favourite thing ever. To be sitting on him like this was exhilarating. Straddling him she crooned as he ran his tongue along her slit. He kissed and sucked and bit on her thighs and on the cheeks of her arse. 

He continued to instruct her, "Now lean forward and take me with that mouth of yours.”

She didn't need to be told twice. She slid him into her mouth and moaned as he fucked her with his tongue. As they progressed, Hermione had a hard time focusing, she found that she had her cheek pressed against his thigh, her hand lazily wrapped around his cock; his tongue working against her slit, a finger toying with her clit, she felt dizzy from pleasure. 

Being this close to him, his cock in her hand, her cheek nuzzled against his thigh, while he lapped at her, made her feel as if their level of intimacy had just hit a new level. With one hand gripping her arse cheek and one lightly on her clit, his tongue working against and inside her, she knew she was going to come quickly. A thought occurred to her how lovely it would be to have his thick cock in her mouth as she cried out in orgasm, and she slowly began to run her lips and mouth along the length of him as his fingers and tongue built her into an orgasm. 

  
When she came, her mouth trembled around his cock; her muffled cries and the feel of her tongue and lips against him and her hands on his balls sent Severus into a quick and intense orgasm. Hermione swallowed him, licking gently at the head of his cock as he shuttered beneath her mouth. 

She rolled onto the bed beside him, his hands running along the length of her legs. In an exhausted whisper, she said, “That was something.”

He chuckled a low deep chuckle, “Indeed, but we’re not done yet.” His hand trailed up her thigh and he began to tease her warm, swollen centre with his fingers.

“Oh…” she moaned, letting her eyes flutter shut at the feel of him against her.


	71. There's Something About Bill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Narcissa enlists Bill's help.

Bill Weasley, his flaming red-hair pulled back into a low bun, ran his hands roughly against his face. He pulled them away and started shuffling through the papers again. Pages and pages of account information. “I just don’t know what happened.  _ How  _ did he…  _ Why _ would he…”

Narcissa couldn’t stop staring at Bill’s fang earring; she was, more or less, entranced by it. She was here because she had presented Lucius with a divorce; her estranged, imprisoned, soon-to-be ex-husband had somehow managed to infiltrate Gringotts and wipe their bank account before the papers were even properly processed. Bill, head accountant at Gringotts, would not have been her first choice--as she wasn’t sure how he would react to her considering his family lineage and who she was, but he was her only option as he was the best. 

She straightened in the chair, pulling her eyes away from his earring, his hair, his rough-looking hands; it seemed bizarre to her that a man who looked so...wild would be working here at Gringotts. "Lucius is a wicked man, Mr Weasley. You're too good for him and people like him, which is why it seems beyond you that anyone would do such a thing, but…"

Bill interrupted her. “Just give me a few hours. I'll sort it out. I'm a bit more wicked than you give me credit for, so I should be able to sort it out. You don't know me that well, I could just as well be sordid, Mrs Malfoy." He playfully winked at her with a warm smile, as he stood up shuffling the papers together. 

  
“Please. Don’t call me that. Just Narcissa, please.” She stared at the man’s hands and realized he was not wearing a wedding ring--she had thought he’d been engaged to that French girl a few years back, but, perhaps, that had not worked out. Her heart fluttered a little at the thought and her brain promptly rolled its eyes at her heart. 

“Fine...Narcissa. Will you return, say, before the end of the day? I should have these things figured out.” 

"How about you meet me at Boutary at eight for dinner. A thank you of sorts." She smiled coyly.

Bill nodded, "I haven't fixed anything yet." 

She winked as she turned to go, "Oh, you will." 

  
  



	72. A New Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus and Tonks have an important conversation.

Remus was in a mood. Again. Tonks was getting quite fed up with it. In fact, she was completely and totally over fighting with him about whether or not he was good enough for her. How many times did she have to tell him that it was  _ her  _ decision who was good for her and who wasn't. He kept telling her that he was too old for her, too poor for her, too dangerous for her. She kept telling him she didn't care about those things. 

They'd gotten into a tiff about the future of their relationship, and Remus had begun packing the things he kept at her house when she stormed back into her room. 

"What are you doing?" Tears were welling in her eyes as she examined the scene before her.

Remus was folding a pair of trousers, his head down, when he spoke. "I'm done, Dora. You deserve better. I love you too much to let you…"

"Remus." She took a deep breath. "You have a cute nose, don't make me break it."

He looked up baffled, "What?"

"I will break your nose. Punch you right in the face if you don't stop being such a daft idiot." 

He involuntarily chuckled. "You'd never punch me. You're the least violent person I know."

She placed her hands on her hips, "That's what you do to me! You make me want to punch things! You drive me mad. If  _ you  _ want to leave  _ me,  _ then go."

" _ I  _ don't want to leave you. I just worry."

She walked over to him and rested her hand against his. "If you're going to be miserable being with me, then go. I don't want to force you here." 

He sighed and cupped her cheek with his rough, callused hand, "I could never be miserable with you."

She smiled softly into his palm, "Then drop it, ok? I want you--all of you. I want to be your new moon."

He leaned in and kissed her lips softly, "You are. You pull me in just as the moon does the sea."


	73. The Flu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco comes down with the flu.

Draco groaned as he rolled over in his bed; his fever was high, his body ached, his stomach lurched. Having the flu was a shit time. There was nothing, not a single thing, anyone could do. His girlfriend didn’t even know he was sick; she’d been busting her arse the past 36 hours at work. He was pitiful and alone. 

He dozed off to sleep and woke sometime later to a cool rag against his forehead. “Here…” the voice whispered, shoving a straw in his mouth. “Have a sip of this.” Cool, bubbly ginger hit his tongue in a refreshing burst. 

He heard Hermione whisper, “Tell me what I can do to help you, love.” 

He did not, however, hear himself say, “Sing me to sleep.” He just knew that his lovely warm, cinnamon smelling girlfriend had pulled him into her lap and was singing to him, running her fingers gingerly through his damp blonde hair, and that, already, he felt so much better.


	74. The Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Narcissa challenges Bill.

Narcissa and Bill made their way back to his loft. Bill didn't know what he had been thinking, asking her back with him. The moment the words came out of his mouth, he was sure she'd say no, but then she didn't. As their evening progressed, as they ate and drank wine and had real conversation, he found himself overwhelmed by her in the best way possible. 

His apartment was small, but he was proud of what he had, of what he'd worked for. Stepping into his home, Narcissa immediately leaned into him and kissed him. Bill pulled back and sputtered a bit of nonsense. 

"Do you want to kiss me, William?" She asked, cooly. He nodded wordlessly. 

"Are you a grown man?" Again, he nodded. 

"Do you still need your baby blanket? Your dummy? Something to coddle and comfort you?" 

He silently shook his head no. She raised her eyebrow and he spoke, "No. Or course not. That's absurd." 

"Then why are you bumbling with nerves…" she leaned in, she smelled elegant to him, that was the only way to put it. There was nothing warm about her scent, not like he was used to with women--a comfort. She let her fingers grazed down his chest and abdomen. "If you want to kiss me, kiss me." 

Desire pulsing, he grabbed her by her waist and pulled her against him, kissing her fiercely. 


	75. Holding Your Breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Cedric prepare for the second task.

Cedric and Harry sat at the edge of the Black Lake. Both were very cold and very silent. The second task was quickly approaching; both were so unbelievably nervous. Cedric nudged Harry in the side with his elbow. “How long can you hold your breath?” 

Harry looked down at the grass and shrugged. He never did that as a kid. The competitive breath-holding contests at the pool in the heat of July. He never had that luxury and now, fuck.“I’ve no idea, Cedric.” 

Cedric smiled his crooked-smile at Harry. “Let’s see who can hold their breaths the longest. K? Let’s make a game out of it.” He wanted to challenge Harry, to push him, while, simultaneously, making him feel comfortable.

Harry shrugged and nodded, “Okay. Let’s do it.”

“Alright. The winner gets whatever they want out of the kitchens. The loser has to knick it.” He held out his hand to Harry to shake.

Harry shook it and both boys waded out into the water. Once they were deep enough Cedric asked, “You ready? On the count of three. One. Two. Three!”

Both sunk under the water and waited.

Harry didn’t want to lose; he felt he had to win.

Both boys stayed under for some time. Cedric let out a breath after two minutes or so and breached the surface, taking a breath of the sweet, cold air. He waited for Harry. He wasn’t sure when he was supposed to begin to worry, and just as he was growing more concerned, Harry came up.

Cedric grabbed onto Harry’s shoulder. “Shit, Harry. You had me worried. Did you black out?”

Harry shook his head and gasped for air, “No. I just … cleared my mind. Four minutes, right? Ugh, I feel like I’m gonna puke.”

“Yeah! Four minutes! Well done, Harry.” Cedric beamed at his peer and fellow-competitor.

Harry smiled widely, “Alright. I want my pumpkin pasties.”


	76. Burying a Hatchet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tonks and Snape make a discovery

Severus Snape was _trying_ to make amends with his wife. He was, truly. He'd attempted to get along with her cousin, Sirius, at dinner, but Sirius goaded him a bit too much, and, well, Severus was just a man, and he gave in. Tonks was furious at both men, but her anger boiled over and onto Severus once the couple arrived home. 

She stood at the bathroom sink washing her face, moving through her nighttime routine. He kept explaining over and over what had happened and why it had happened. She rolled her eyes at him. Looking at him in the mirror, she let out an exasperated sigh. "Dude. I was there. I know what happened. I heard it all."

Severus stepped towards the countertop and leaned against it. "Look, Dora. I even said to him, 'Let's just bury the hatchet.'"

She slammed her hands down against the counter top and glared at him, "Fuck your methaphorical hatchet, Sev. Just fuck it." 

It was obvious by his facial expression just how taken aback he was by his wife's anger. She was not an angry person, and she almost never behaved in this way. Sure, she got plenty frustrated, but she was deeply empathetic and understanding, and she almost never yelled or had outbursts.

Severus reached over and touched her arm lightly, "What is the matter with you? Are you ok?"

Suddenly, he watched as his wife dissolved into tears. She started speaking but it mostly came out as blubbers. He caught the words "emotional" and "tired" and "irritable". 

Her tears slowed, and she spoke more clearly, "I mean, I'm not even due for my period for another…" Severus searched her face for answers, as she looked awestruck at something. She glanced at him and said, "Grab my wand will you?"

Without question he left, and when he came back into the room, several moments later, having had to search for her wand, there was a small vial of something yellow on the counter. 

Tonks took her wand from him, pointed it at the vial and muttered a spell so low he couldn't be certain as to what she said, but he thought…

He watched as the yellow substance, which he now understood to be urine, turned into a deep purple. Immediately understanding, he wrapped his arms around his wife's waist and pressed his large palm against her abdomen with a smile.


	77. Glitter Confetti

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tonks and Severus go to a baby-doctor appointment. Severus is annoyed with the healer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a continuation of chapter 75. As always, thanks for reading! <3

Tonks and Severus sat patiently in a room at the healer’s office waiting on Healer Duckworth to come back in. They were about to find out the sex of the baby; Tonks wasn’t nervous at all, but Severus was—nervous in a good way. He didn’t particularly have a preference as to the sex of the baby; he was still elated and amazed and terrified over the fact that that he was, in fact, going to be a father. 

Healer Duckworth walked in and Tonks began to make her own prediction. “I bet it’s a boy.” 

Duckworth sat down next to her and smiled, “I bet it’s a turtle.”

Severus wanted to roll his eyes but he didn’t. Instead, he looked down at the ground and let out a slow breath that no one could see or hear.

He couldn't stand this healer; Duckworth thought himself to be so funny, but he wasn’t; his jokes were trite and often juvenile. Severus had expressed many times, a few times in the healer’s office and in front of the healer, that he didn’t like the man, but Tonks was adamant that he was the best at caring for pregnant women and babies, especially those who had special magical qualities. 

Their baby had a seventy-five per cent chance of also being a metamorphmagus; sometimes those pregnancies and deliveries could be tricker. Severus knew this and understood her reasoning, but, Merlin, couldn't the man have some decorum? She’d asked her husband to control himself the last time he’d gotten annoyed with Duckworth, and, so, he was going to control himself. He kept his head down as the healer made another idiotic joke. Severus just tuned him out so he wouldn’t snap at him for being such a bloody dunderhead. 

Severus’ ears perked when he heard, “Girl! A baby girl!” Glancing up, he smiled at his wife, who had begun to cry a little, and he squeezed her hand. Healer Duckworth shot a stream of pink glitter confetti out of his wand in celebration. Severus glared at the man and bit his lip in irritation over the stereotypical pink in celebration of a daughter, as well as the fact that his hair now had flecks of glitter confetti in it. 

Tonks burst into a fit of laughter, as she flicked some glitter off of his cheek.


	78. Tea Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Hermione have tea.

Harry and Hermione were at a small tea parlour in Hogsmeade for an impromptu day-date, as they finished their tea and biscuits, he fumbled around and realized he didn’t feel his wallet in his cloak or trouser pockets. Sighing, he looked at Hermione. “Love, I’m sorry. Do you have any spare change? I can’t find my wallet anywhere.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and held up his wallet. “ It fell out when you sat down.” Harry reached out his hand to grab it, when she pulled it back. “Tut. tut. You can’t be responsible. So, you don’t get to have your wallet.” 

She grinned and grabbed the slip of paper off of the table to pay for them both. He downed his last bit of tea and followed her to the counter. 

“I’m off to Flourish and Blotts.” She said as she waved his wallet in front of her face with a mischievous grin on her face. “They’ve got in that new book we’ve been wanting. The one about sex magic.” 

Harry felt his trousers tighten around his crotch as he followed his girlfriend out the doors.


	79. You Reek, Weasley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pansy has a really bad day.

When Ron gets home from Auror training, he is in a wonderful mood. When Pansy gets home from her job as a journalist at  _ Witch Weekly, _ she is in a horrid mood.

Ron has had a really good day on top of a  _ really _ good week; this means he wants to go out to dinner with his girlfriend—the two of them will completely indulge: an appetizer, two entrees, beer for him, wine for her, and possibly dessert. He also is just generally famished on this particular day from busting his arse in the field. In his mind, he’s planned out the evening, he’ll get home, take a shower, get dressed, and he and Pansy will go out and catch up on everything they missed of one another throughout the week.

Pansy, however, has had a really bad day to round off what _ was _ a really good week; her editor hated, absolutely abhorred, her most recent article—the one she’d busted her arse on for two straight weeks. The man had the gall to ball it up, toss it in a bin, and then set the bin on fire. Pansy didn’t understand why a man was the editor of a magazine that’s readership was 97% witch in the first place, but whatever. She wanted to go home, take off her bra and high heels, curl up in the bed, eat some dark chocolate with hints of orange, drink a glass of wine, and go to sleep.

When Ron came home, he found her curled up on her side, heels a strew at the side of the bed. He, too, kicked off his shoes and got into bed with her, lying behind her, and squeezing her slightly. She felt immediate comfort from his body next to hers, but, then, he spoke. “Pans. Whassa’ matter? Get up! Let’s go out. It’s Friday! Let’s go to that Thai restaurant you love and pig out, eh?” 

Pansy buried her face into their mattress. “No…” She groaned. 

Ron rested his chin on her shoulder, and in a very childlike way asked, “So is that a no to supper or a no to Thai food?” 

Looking up from the mattress she glared at him. “I just want to cuddle and sleep. Everything’s gone to shit. I’ll never be a good writer. So, cuddle or leave.” 

He tugged on her shoulder until she rolled over flat onto her back so he could see her. “Hey, now. Look. You  _ are  _ an amazing writer. I reek, however, so I’m going to take a quick shower. When I come back, I expect you to be in your pyjamas. I’ll floo for takeout and more chocolate and wine and you can tell me all about it. Alright?”

She nodded solemnly. He lifted her chin with two fingers. “I love you. You’re outstanding. You’re my favourite person in the world.”

A small smile played on her lips, she shoved him away gently with a laugh, “Get out of our bed, Weasley. You reek.” 


	80. Nightcall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus wakes Sybill late at night.

Snape knocked on the door to Trelawney's living quarters. It was four in the morning, and he had no idea why exactly he was here  _ again  _ with his knuckles resting upon her door.

A few moments after knocking, the door opened. She didn't seem surprised to see him, but she didn't look pleased. 

"What is it, Severus? It's very late." Seeing him standing there reminded her of their last conversation several weeks ago. The one where he said they were done.

"I'm just so fucking tired, Sybill." He croaked. His voice had a raspy and raw sound to it. She knew, then, that he had been summoned earlier in the night. His voice creaked. "May I come in?"

She pulled her door open further, standing to the side so he could come in. He walked into her quarters and he began to cry as he sunk into her sofa.

Sybill was an empathetic person, but she couldn't understand what he was doing exactly. She knew that being around You-Know-Who exhausted him, but it usually left him feeling irritable and angry, not weepy. “What is the matter with you? Are you high? Poisoned? Sick? What is it?”

He leaned his head against the back of the couch, tears streaming down his face. “I believe I am, in fact, drugged, Sybill. I  _ feel _ so much right now. It’s like a much less intense version of Veritaserum. I want to say so much, and I find that I can just barely control myself to not.”

Sybill sat next to him on her couch without a word. 

He glanced at her and sighed, “You’re so beautiful it hurts.” He then groaned in irritation. “See? I couldn’t control that."

“It’s okay to feel things, Severus,” she said, patting his leg gently, a touch of condescension in her voice. 

“It’s dangerous, Sybill. It’s stupid for me to even be here. We were supposed to stop all this. I shouldn’t be here, but I am because you’re all I fucking think about. It takes so much effort to focus on anything else.” He stood up and pushed the base of his hands into his eyes, rubbing them in frustration.

She stood up and motioned to her bedroom, “Let’s just go to sleep. Let whatever it is you’ve been given wear off in your sleep, ok? In the morning, you can go, and I’ll forget everything you said.”

“I don’t want you to forget it. I don’t want you to forget me when I die.” He looked down at his feet; he looked downright miserable.

“You’re not going to die,” she protested. 

He nodded. “I am. I have to. It’s the only way  _ it  _ works.” 

She swallowed hard, she knew he was referring to Dumbledore's plans to win the war. “Let’s not discuss this. Come to bed with me. Please.” She reached out and took his hand in hers. He held her hand and then tugged her toward him, wrapping his arms around her, folding himself around her. She felt his body shudder and she buried her face into his chest. Looking up at him she motioned to her room again, beckoning him to bed.


	81. The Hat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An AU in which Voldemort is defeated during the first war--Severus and Sybill grow to like one another while working at Hogwarts and, thus, get hitched at some point.

Severus Snape stormed into the living quarters he shared with Sybill Trelawney and exclaimed, “This group of Gryffindors will be the death of me!”

The bespectacled woman with wild hair and many crystal necklaces looked up from her tarot cards and said, “Let it go, Severus. They’re children.”

He threw his arms out by his side in indignation. “They’re thirteen. Remus doesn’t help. He fucking doesn’t. I’m apparently Longbottom’s…”

“Boggart. I heard.” She quirked a smile and then, upon seeing his face, burst into laughter.

Jutting his jaw a bit he groaned, “Why did I marry you if you’re not even going to be on my side?” He let a small smile play at his lips to let her know he was jesting. 

She shrugged, “Oh, I don’t know, darlin’. Probably because no one else would put up with your grouchy-arse.”

He laughed, “What else did you hear about the boggart?”

Sybill got up from where she was and walked up to her husband, she stood in front of him, shorter and much smaller than him, true, but he was absolutely weak and helpless when it came to her—she intoxicated him. 

He knew she was up to something by the look of mischief on her lips. She flicked her wand and the vulture hat landed upon Severus’ head. Sybill let out an obnoxiously loud cackle. 

Severus shut his eyes with a groan. “Aw. Fuck, Sybbi, how did you get this from Augusta?”

“It took a lot of convincing, honestly.”

He huffed and glared at her. She laughed some more and patted his shoulder lightly, “Do wear it to bed later, ok?”

Severus tore the hat off, leaving his hair a dishevelled mess.


	82. I Really Like Weasley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pansy let's Draco in on a secret.

Pansy was lying on Draco Malfoy's lap. The pair were working through their favourite romantic comedies. It was something they did every February. She rolled over and looked up at him. "Can I help you?" he asked her.

She covered her face with her hand, her matte black nails perfect. "I have something to tell you, but I'm nervous."

"Go on, Parkinson. I want to watch Sandra Bullock swoon over Bill Pullman."

She groaned and said, "I really like Weasley." 

"Ron? My boyfriend's best friend, Ron?"

"That's the one."

Draco let out a short laugh and grabbed his phone off of the side table. 

"Who are you texting?"

Draco smirked and shrugged, "No one." 

Pansy sat up and slapped his arm playfully, "I swear to Merlin if you're texting Harry…"


	83. The Muggle Safe House: Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An AU in which the war goes on for a bit longer than in canon, Pansy and Tonks end up working and living together.

Pansy Parkinson had abandoned the sinking ship that was her pureblood allegiance; she’d never fully understood it, to be honest. Growing up there was always something niggling in the back of her mind, always questioning what her father or grandfather said. She didn’t like the way women were treated or perceived; she didn’t like the idea of her greatest strength being her womb and that she would eventually produce more pureblood children. 

So, when the opportunity presented itself, she let herself get caught by Aurors. 

Pansy was extremely cunning and intelligent, not once did Pansy participate in anything she could be eventually charged for. She spent most of her time gathering information, and once she had enough, enough that proved her to be a useful asset for years to come, she let herself fall into the hands of Nymphadora Tonks. 

***

Tonks found herself now responsible for the posh nineteen-year-old. When she caught her and as she got information out of her, she was the one who offered the woman safety, and the rest of her team decided she was then responsible for her. Tonks wasn’t sure how this would turn out. Was she now just babysitting a brat Slytherin? Who was Pansy Parkinson? What was her end game? 

Admittedly, the information Parksion told Tonks had helped them tremendously. They were at a standstill; Harry still hadn’t found the last two Horcruxes, and as more people close to Tom Riddle died, the less information he had to go on. This meant Aurors were tasked with trying to stop and detain as many Death Eaters as possible. Pansy’s information had led to the arrest of at least a dozen Death Eaters. Tonks hoped Harry, Ron, and Hermione would be able to find the last two Horcruxes soon.

Once it became clear that Pansy had a wealth of valuable information and insight, Kingsley not only suggested that Tonks keep her safe, but insisted that she spend as much time as she could with the dark-haired woman.

After a long week, Tonks apparated to the hidden safe house where Pansy and she stayed. 

***

When Tonks walked in, Pansy was in the middle of watching something she couldn’t remember the name of. She was quite enjoying the Muggle telly and was thankful that Tonks had placed her in a house with Muggle amenities. Pansy wasn’t allowed to use magic, as they feared Voldemort and his Death Eaters were regularly watching all magical networks. 

Pansy liked Tonks, but she wasn’t willing to let her know that. Tonks was the epitome of a Hufflepuff to Pansy; warmth and comfort came with her presence almost immediately. Maybe it was that Tonks had, in a sense, helped Pansy save herself, and that was why she had a fondness for the woman, or maybe that was just who Tonks was. She couldn’t be sure. She did know, however, that the pink-haired woman’s form walking towards her made her feel  _ something _ only one other person had really made her feel. 

She had felt something similar towards Daphne Greengrass after they had begun to make out in her four-poster bed for hours each night. Daphne had let Pansy down easy when she confided her feelings to her; Daphne had told her it had all just been an experiment—all in good fun, it hadn’t meant anything to Daphne, not emotionally anyway. Pansy acted as if she understood and was mistaken about her feelings, and she too knew that their late-night kisses were sexual experimentation, a right of passage, or whatever, but she knew this to be a lie. 

Pansy knew that she loved Daphne, but she also knew that, due to her upbringing, she had to pretend to love and adore boys like Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott. She hated this feeling with every ounce of her. One thing that was different about her new feelings towards Tonks was that Pansy was no longer part of the world she grew up in and, perhaps, she could be herself in the future, not hiding behind a pureblood husband.

Tonks sat down in the armchair next to the couch where Pansy was. Pansy tore her eyes away from Tonks and looked at the telly. “You’ve two choices:  _ The Real House Wives of Orange County  _ or  _ Keeping Up With the Kardashians. _ ” 

Pansy heard the woman groan, “Neither of which I like.” 

And Pansy laughed softly, “Well, I’m personally invested in  _ Real House Wives,  _ so…”

She glanced over to see Tonks kicking off her dirty purple Chuck Taylor’s, “Fine, but I’m going to need alcohol for this. You want some?”

The dark-haired woman nodded and turned back to look at the telly, excited about this possible friendship that was forming.


	84. The Muggle Safe House: Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A modern AU in which the war goes on for a bit longer than in canon, Pansy and Tonks end up working together.

It had been two months since Pansy began living in the safe house. Tonks came and went, and sometimes she was gone for days and days, but, most of the time, she returned each night. When she was gone for stretches, Pansy was unbearably lonely, even though the pair didn't speak much.

One day, after Tonks had returned after being gone a week, Pansy piped up, “I want a cat.” 

Tonks rolled her eyes, “Yeah, well, I want a dog, but our lives don’t really lend themselves to pets, do they?” 

Tonks had snapped at her, and Pansy wasn’t used to Tonks taking that sort of tone with her. She wasn’t sure how to react. “I’m sorry,” she began. “I just get a bit lonely when...when you’re not here.” 

Upon her words, Tonks glanced up at the woman and bit her lip. “Look, I’m sorry. I understand that it can be hard when no one else is here…”

Pansy interrupted her, “No. I think I’d feel lonely if anyone other than you were here.”

“Oh…” Tonks looked down at her feet and bounced on the balls of her feet, “I...have grown to enjoy your company quite a lot too.” 

Pansy smiled to herself, “So, can I get a cat?”

Tonks laughed, “Maybe.”


	85. Food Fantasies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation between Harry and Ron shared in the Forest of Dean.

Hermione had gathered up as many mushrooms as she could, she then boiled them in water and made some semblance of soup for her and the boys in the Forest of Dean.

She was tired and irritable, and she just didn’t feel like being around anyone; she thrust the bowls at Harry and Ron before stomping off into their tent for the evening. 

Ron gulped air and stared at the bowl in front of him. In a whisper, so Hermione wouldn’t hear he said, “Do we even know what that’s made of?” He smiled feebly at Harry, to let Harry know he was joking, trying to lighten the constantly oppressive mood. 

Harry chuckled quietly and took a small sip of the soup. He tried not to cringe at the gritty dirty taste of the mushrooms. Looking up at the sky he asked, “If you could eat anything in the world right now what would it be?”

Pulling the bowl from his lips Ron didn’t hesitate, “Anything by mum, but if I got to choose? I’d have her pasta bake—it’s simple but so unbelievably delicious. Sometimes I lie in the bed and fantasize about eating it.” He paused, as if he were fantasizing about eating it right then, and then asked, “What about you?” 

Also, without hesitation, Harry replied, “Chinese food? Yeah. Chinese food. One time, when I was younger, the Dursley’s were taking Dudley to a Chinese restaurant to celebrate something he’d barely accomplished, and Mrs Figg wasn’t around, so they had to take me. It was the best food I’d had until I got to Hogwarts. They only let me have eggrolls and steamed white rice; Dudley didn’t like his potstickers, so I got those, too. It was a simple meal, really, but, to me, it was the most decadent thing ever. I’d give anything to have that right now.”

“Blimey, Harry. We’ve got to stop talking about food. Sometimes, I’m not sure being this hungry is worth saving the Wizarding World.” Ron chortled; Harry joined in with his best friend’s laughter before they each took a long sip of their wild mushroom soup. 


	86. A Bed Ablaze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation between Lucius and Narcissa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for adultery

Lucius Malfoy found his wife in their bedroom. There was a soft orange glow upon her face; their bed—their very expensive bed was on fire. 

The man stared at Narcissa dumbfounded, "What are you doing, 'Cissa?" 

She shot him a glare so venomous it practically hurt. Very calmly she replied, "These sheets are stained with your disgusting seed and sweat and those womens secretions. Do you think after what you did? After you made a fool out of me that I would sleep in the same bed that you shared with those women? That's disgusting. You disgust me." 

With a flick of her wand she put out the fire. Their bed was now a pile of ash on the floor, some fire still smoldering near the centre. 


	87. Learning To Drive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pansy and Tonks get a flat tire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A friend told me she was quite disappointed there wasn't a part three to the little Pansy/Tonks. I apologise for those of you who may be sick of Tonks by now. Ha. I also apologise for the past few days having shorter pieces—home renovations are time consuming.

Pansy had to learn how to drive. Tonks insisted upon it. If she was going to be living under protection as a Muggle, she had to behave like a Muggle. As the safe house was in the country, Pansy needed to be able to drive to get to the market for supplies. 

The dark-haired woman had been doing just fine until she sunk into a pothole, the tire immediately deflating.

She looked shocked and confused and looked at Tonks with a look of  _ What the fuck?  _

"Ah. Damn. Okay. That pothole did the tire in. Pull over we'll have to change it," Tonks said to her. 

Pansy pulled over and Tonks clambored out of the car. Pansy followed suit and stood beside her on the road. 

Tonks stared at tire, a strand of pink hair between her fingers twirling madly. She was clearly deep in thought. Pansy glanced at her and asked, "You don't know how to change a tire?'

Tonks shrugged, "Yeah. I do. I think." Neither could use magic, as to ensure no one tracked their location, and so Tonks set to work. After thirty minutes, the tire was still flat and still on the car. She groaned in frustration. Pansy rested her hand on her shoulder and say, "Give it a rest for a few moments, will you? Let's just sit and relax, then we'll try again."

Tonks let her back slide down the car door, sitting on the ground. Taking the woman's lead, Pansy did the same. They were sitting close, they're knees almost touching. 

"Merlin. I've never been so frustrated."

"I'm sorry I hit that pothole." Pansy reaching over and rested her hand, in a gesture of apology, on Tonks' thing. 

A soft smile played at Tonks' lips and she shrugged, glancing over at the other woman. "It's alright. It is what it is." She sighed and their eyes met. 

Pansy, then, did what she'd wanted to do for ages, she leaned in and kissed her. It felt so natural to kiss her, as if it was something that should have happened a thousand times before now. Pansy was elated that Tonks returned to kiss, pushing their lips together. Pulling away, Tonks searched Pansy's face for answers to all the questions she had, but Tonks supposed the questions could wait and she leaned in to kiss the dark-haired Slytherin again. 


	88. It Means Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Muggle Professorial AU between Dr. Lupin and Dr. Granger.

After several long days hosting a Literature conference at their University, Professors Hermione Granger and Remus Lupin, believed they deserved a break that involved some alcohol.

The pair settled in next to each other at the bar; they discussed the panels they enjoyed, the topics they'd consider for the following year, their own research. Somehow being tired of work didn't stop them from talking about work. 

Hermione, mid-sentence, spotted an all too familiar face on the other side of the bar. Her facial expression changed drastically, and Remus followed her line of sight to a very tall, very built, and very handsome blonde man. 

Remus felt a twinge of jealousy, he didn't know who this man was, but gauging Hermione's reaction…

She then placed her fingers gingerly on his forward. "You remember the man I dated? The one who, when I broke up with him, told me I would be a sad cat lady? That no man would ever love me?"

Remus nodded, taking a sip of his beer as he did. "The one who seemed to think he was doing  _ you _ a favour by being your boyfriend?"

"Yes! That's him. That's my ex. That's Cormac." Hermione nodded slightly in the direction of the handsome blonde. 

Remus gulped and somewhere in his brain began to think about how he'd never physically compare to someone like that. Hermione seemed to only have dated very fit, very handsome, very athletic men. Remus was not fit or athletic anymore—not after the car wreck that ruined his back and right leg. He supposed he might be handsome, but he was old and greying; he looked tired—Cormac looked full of energy, as did his colleague. 

He noticed that Hermione instantly seemed nervous and insecure, as Cormac seemed to move closer to them. Remus knew that Cormac had taken a toll on Hermione's self-esteem. 

Suddenly, he had an idea. "Make him jealous."

She turned and looked at him confused, "What?"

"Look, Cormac thinks he is God's gift to women. You don't need him. You know that. I know that. He doesn't know that...yet. If he speaks to you, we'll make it clear we're on a date."

Hermione fumbled with her fingers, "...Okay! Alright. Oh, he's coming this way." 

Remus shrugged, "Good." What happened next he wasn't expecting: "Remus. Kiss me so he sees."

Remus' felt his heart fly into his throat as she leaned closer into him. For so long he'd wanted to kiss her, not exactly under this guise, however.

He shook his head in a small "no". She cocked her head in return confused. He took a deep breath and leaned in close to her, pressing his lips to her ear, smelling the chamomile of her shampoo, "I  _ want _ to kiss you and have it mean something. I don't want to do it to just make your ex jealous. It'll ruin it. Taint it. You're too … good to waste a first kiss on that dipshit." 

Hermione pulled away from him and searched his face adoringly. She then leaned forward and whispered in his ear, her soft lips pressed against his skin, her hair tickling his nose, "Then you should kiss me soon. It'll mean something." 

Remus slapped some money on the bar and grabbed Hermione's hand, guiding her out of the bar and into the quiet street.


	89. Five Points From Ravenclaw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A non-romantic relationship between Snape and Luna, where Snape allows Luna to grow as a potioneer.

Luna didn't care much for following instructions. She saw the ingredient lists and directions, as guidelines, soft suggestions in potions class. 

Professor Snape seemed to like that Luna did this. He never expressed it openly, but he never said anything cruel or harsh to her when she experimented in class. Occasionally, he would award Ravenclaw a point or two for her innovation. He found he could get away with this as the class with the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were far more tolerable than the class with Gryffindors and Slytherins. 

He found, in fact, he was a better teacher with the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. It helped to have a student like Lovegood, and while Snape knew that Granger was the smartest pupil at Hogwarts when it came to raw intellect, he also knew that many other students excelled above and beyond Granger in creativity and innovation—Lovegood was one of these students. 

Luna did all sorts of bizarre things in his class, and he let her, as often some of her ideas were more effective and sometimes yielded different results. 

On this particular Thursday, Luna took it too far leaving half of the classroom charred. Snape had to extinguish many students' robes and books, and by the end he found Luna sitting against a wall writing in her notebook what she'd discovered. 

He crouched next to her and glowered, "You got lucky. You’re not going to do that again, right?” His voice was low with warning, but there was a touch of concern mixed in.

Luna set down her quill and shook her head, "Nope. No way, sir. Definitely not going to mix those again. I've made notes of it here." She pointed to the page of her notebook. 

The man simply nodded and replied, "Very well. 5 points from Ravenclaw."

She smiled to herself, knowing anyone in Gryffindor would have lost a lot more than that.


	90. The Chair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus and Hermione do some decorating.

Hermione had just begun to move her stuff into Severus’ home after a year of dating. She was a bit apprehensive about all her things being there, as she was certain, just certain, that he would loathe a number of her design choices: her gigantic, velvet, Scarlett chair, each button embossed with a lion on it, for starters. It was the most Gryffindor of all Gryfindor things. She wasn’t sure that the comfort level of the chair would win him over. 

Severus was cleaning out the library when she plucked a doll-sized version of the chair out of her bag, she was about to transform it to its full-size when he walked into the room, “Hey, babe, look what I found,” handing her an old battered copy of her favourite charms book. 

She handed him the small chair and took the book. She began perusing the book as he fiddled with the item she’d handed him. “What’s this doll chair for?”

Pulled out of her trance, she glanced at him as said, “This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen.” 

“Oh, I knew it!” She huffed, “I knew you would hate that chair.” Dropping her voice down a few octaves she said, “Get that out of the house now, Hermione! You know I hate Gryffindor.”

Severus looked perplexed and raised his eyebrows at his girlfriend, “What are you on about? This is a doll chair.” 

She rolled her eyes, grabbed the chair out of his hand, and set it on the floor. With a flick of her wand, the chair was restored to its normal size, in all its glory. Severus let out a loud chuckle, “That thing is hideous. And it’s not because of the colours. It could be green and it’d be hideous.”

“Well, it’s quite comfortable. It’s staying.”

Severus shrugged, “I don’t care. This is your home now, too. I do think, however, we should break the chair in properly.”

A soft blush rose in Hermione’s cheeks, “How so?” 


	91. My Chosen One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Fleur reunite.

For some very bizarre reason, the Wizarding World decided to have a reunion of sorts, one for those who competed in the Triwizard Tournaments. Harry hadn’t wanted to go, but Hermione was pretty pushy about the whole thing. Harry figured she just wanted to see Krum again, and, while he couldn’t blame her for that, he didn’t really want to be reminded of how bloody awful the whole shebang had been.

With Hermione on his arm as his platonic-date, he was struck by how swanky and ridiculous the whole fucking thing was. They were carrying on like someone hadn't died when Harry participated. Sure they had a memorial for those lost during the Triwizard Tournament, but Cedric had died under much different circumstances than the past competitors. It all made Harry sick. He managed to seclude himself in the back of the room, avoiding everyone.

Hermione had been taken away by Krum, which suited Harry just fine; he knew people thought they were together, and he knew that bringing her would start a bunch of rumours, but he didn't care. He wanted Hermione to be happy even if it meant a few weeks worth of tabloids. He was ready to leave when Fleur found him, "You've been replaced. I see." 

Harry felt his heart lurch at the sight of her, and he felt at ease in her presence. Someone else who understood the pain of their tournament. He glanced confusedly at the woman next to him, "What do you mean?"

Fleur gestured towards Viktor and Hermione. Suddenly, he began to ramble. "Oh. No. No. Hermione and I are just friends. Flatmates. We've talked about living on our own, but we need each other for now. You know? She's thought about moving out, moving away, getting away from everything, but I just say, 'Alright, 'Mione. We’ll see how you feel when you need me to kill a spider in the shower.' Heh. Anyway, maybe she and Krum will finally get together. Then he can kill the spiders." 

He took in a sharp breath and rubbed his palms on his trousers. Fleur cocked her head to the side just so and asked, "'Arry? Are you nervous? Are you ok?

Running his fingers through his messy black hair, he nodded. "Yes. No." 

She gave him a look that demanded he tell her more. "I hate being here. It makes my stomach hurt. I have  _ terrible  _ anxiety, Fleur. I feel so out of control when around a lot of people, especially when it brings back anything about the war, which is almost everything. Do you know what I mean?"

Nodding, her blonde hair fell around her shoulders, and Harry gulped at her intoxicating beauty. "Yes. I've learned to control it, through control."

Harry laughed cynically, "That's the thing: I don't want to be in control. I was in charge of so much for so long; I just want to let go. I don't want to think. I just want to be. I want to feel good for once in my life." He shook his head and looked up at the ceiling, visibly frustrated.

Fleur leaned in and walked her fingers of her right hand up Harry's thigh, up his belly, and rested her palm on his breast pocket. Harry felt his heart pick up its pace, followed by a swift flow of blood to his groin. She fiddled with his silk pocket square and said, "I think that we can help one another." 

"How so?" Harry asked, his curiosity piqued. What happened next was not what he expected. 

She grabbed his face in her hand, soft but firm; her long and delicate fingers resting against his square jawline. With a nudge, she pulled his face so he was facing her fully. "Are you willing to listen to me? To do as I say?" 

Harry nodded, unable to form words. She nodded in reply, "That's my good boy. My chosen one." 


	92. Chewbacca

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco mocks Hermione’s nighttime apparel.

Draco Malfoy sauntered into the flat he shared with Hermione, and he hadn’t meant to laugh at her, he really hadn’t, but they had just begun living together and he was getting used to all her...eccentricities. He’d teased her endlessly about all her weird knickknacks, he wasn’t being cruel—the snark, the teasing, that was just...them. 

The tall man leaned against the bookshelf in their living room and laughed. The curly-haired woman pulled the book away from her face and glared at him, “What?”

“Hermione, are those supposed to be slippers? They look like you’re wearing Hagrid on your feet or something; they’re hideous.”

She scoffed, “Is that you being mean? Again?”

“No, love. I’m sorry. I just don’t understand why you’re wearing them or what they’re supposed to be?” Draco walked over and sat next to her on the couch. He timidly touched the slippers.

Hermione ran her hand lovingly against one as if she were petting it.“Chewbacca.”

“Chew-wha?” 

She rolled her eyes, “It’s from Muggle films—Star Wars. You’d like them.” 

“Hmmm,” he reached his hand out again and pet the slipper. “They do seem as if they’d be warm. Can I try them on? My feet do get awfully cold around here due to the hardwood.”

It was Hermione’s turn to laugh, “No. They’re mine.” 

Draco rolled his eyes and adjusted himself on the couch so his socked, but cold feet were resting beneath her ample thighs. 


	93. Unexpected Comfort: Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly bumps into a familiar face in Diagon Alley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bear with me, this is a weird one, but as we are nearing the end of the one hundred days, I had the urge to have a pairing out of the left field.
> 
> Also, this is part one of two.

It had been four years since Arthur had died in St. Mungo’s from Nagini’s bite, one year since the Battle of Hogwarts and the death of Fred, and three days since Molly Weasley last cried. 

All of Molly’s remaining children worked together as a unit to ensure their mother was  _ okay _ . They knew she would never be truly okay, but they did what they could to help her, and she was eternally grateful for them. 

One thing that her children, specifically Percy, insisted she do was go to town occasionally; today was one of the days that she went to Diagon Alley. She never had a purpose and heaven forbid she bought anything, but she did go. Percy would always meet her there, and she would have lunch with him and occasionally George and Ron would leave the shop in the capable hands of someone else and join them, too. These lunches always made her day, but they also tended to leave her feeling just a touch sadder knowing that there would always be Fred missing from her gaggle of boys. 

Ginny, unlike her brothers, had a different approach to caring for her mother. Ginny insisted, simply  _ insisted _ , that Molly visit a mind-healer. Her youngest child had sought out a mind-healer not long after the ending of the war; Harry had gone as well. The couple were “poster-children” for what mind-healers could do for grief and guilt. Molly, however, did not want to go to a mind-healer, she didn’t want someone to tell her to get rid of her guilt; she needed her guilt.

To Molly’s dismay, her weekly lunch with a few of her boys was actually lunch with  _ all _ her children. She dry-swallowed when she saw the six of them together—the missing seventh child, the missing husband by her side. Timidly she joined them at the table outside. The moment she sat down, Ginny pressed a book on grief into her hands and inside the book was an appointment card.  _ They’ve gone and made me an appointment. I cannot believe it...  _ She ran her fingers against the edge of the card and sighed with a subtle nod of defeat. The lunch then ran as normal. 

As all her children went their separate ways, Percy hung around, as he always saw her home. “It’s for the best mum. I promise.” He hugged her, squeezing her tight, and she felt her eyes prickle with tears.  _ Fudge. I made it three whole days without crying. Three whole days. Fudge. Fudge. Fudge.  _ She pulled away from her son, batting back tears with rapid blinks, “I forgot I’ve got to pop into Slug & Jiggers. You don’t need to wait around. Get back to work, dear.” 

Letting out a deep sigh, she walked away from her son and down the alley to the apothecary. She steadied her emotions, and, to her relief, she’d managed to not cry.  _ See? I don’t need a mind-healer, I’ve got this completely under control.  _

Molly slipped into the shop and perused and perused and finally, when no one was looking, slipped the book among a stack of others. 

Just when she believed she was in the clear, she headed out the door. Suddenly, a gentle but firm hand was on her upper arm, she turned to see Severus Snape. She gasped at the sight of him. It had been so long since she’d seen him, since before Dumbledore’s death. 

She knew that he kept to himself; he hadn’t even attended the ceremony where he received an Order of Merlin. He looked mostly the same, he was still tall with dark long hair and dark eyes, but he looked less sallow, less gaunt, and, for this, she was relieved. She had always worried about him, even after when they believed he’d killed Dumbledore for Voldemort. 

He spoke in a deep, raspy voice—a voice that sounded like it hadn’t been used in quite a long time as if it needed oiling, “You forgot your book.” Molly was still staring up at him when she felt him push something into her free hand. Looking down she saw the book Ginny had just given her, appointment card still sticking out. 

“Oh, no, I  _ lost  _ my book. I don’t want this, and if I’ve lost the book, then I’ve lost the appointment card within it. Therefore, when my bothersome, but caring, children ask me about my appointment I can just say, “Oh! I lost the book and the card. What a bother.” She smiled a bit wearily up at him, and he returned her weary smile with an equally weary one.

He nodded and pulled the book from her hands, “Then, I’ll put it back where I found it. It was good to see you, Mrs Weasley.’ He turned to go.

Molly didn’t necessarily want him to go, as she hadn’t had a conversation with anyone other than her children and her children’s partners in ages, and said, “Call me Molly, please.” 

He turned and with a curt nod responded, “Molly, then. Have a nice day.”

_ Darn _ .  _ That didn’t work.  _ She took a step forward and a gigantic leap of faith and asked, “Severus? Would you like to get some tea?” 

He looked shocked as if being asked to tea was the most ridiculous thing in the world, but to her surprise, he nodded considering, “Let me put this up. Hold on.” 

Molly stood outside the shop and paced a little, wringing her hands together, feeling a bit nervous and a bit excited.  _ Out of all the people to ask to have tea.  _ Severus emerged from the shop moments later and approached her, “I have one request, however, I don’t want to have tea here...in town. You have to understand I am still quite a popular topic in the tabloids and…”

“We can go wherever you’d like.” She quickly responded as she didn’t want to lose this opportunity for conversation outside of her family, a conversation that wouldn’t be an obligation from her loved ones.

He held out his arm to her, “We can apparate to a small tea shop in Edinburg, a Muggle shop. Okay?”

She nodded and linked her arm in his and the touch of someone who wasn’t one of her children felt like the greatest thing in the world. 

***

How linking her arm with Severus Snape’s led her, several hours later, back at his home was beyond her, but here she was now, sitting in his living room, side-by-side on the couch, with a bottle of wine. 

Not once had Severus asked her about her children or her life as a widow; he’d asked her about _ her _ : What she used to do for a living? What she would do now if she could do anything? What was her favourite biscuit? How did she take her tea? Eventually, she confessed that while tea was nice and all, at a certain time of day she preferred a nice Merlot, which, he shared, he had a nice bottle back at his flat. 

Molly felt so unbelievably good sitting here, slightly buzzed with him. She hadn’t felt so free and so light in ages, but she was certainly surprised when she leaned her body into his, her arm pressing gently against him and he didn’t move away from her touch, and, well, she was even more surprised when she looked over at him, laughing at something he’d said, and then leaned in and pressed her wine-stained lips to his. 

Heat flooded her. It was the first time she’d kissed a man in four years, it was the first time she’d even considered kissing anyone at all, and as she felt his lips respond to hers, she pulled away, her mind filled with sudden doubt. 

For starters, she was ten years older than him; she was a widow; she had birthed seven children; she was  _ old _ , she was no longer young and beautiful and she hadn’t thought about the appearance of her body in four years. With Arthur, while she wanted to look beautiful and pretty and sexy for him, she didn’t have to do much as he made her feel those things all the time. 

She had no idea what other men thought of her, and, frankly, up until this moment, she hadn’t cared. In this short span of time since her lips pressed into Severus’, she felt guilty and excited and indigent on her behalf: She was only 49, she was allowed to have something for herself.  _ Right? _

As she searched Severus’ face after having kissed him, she felt his long and cool fingers run along her cheek. “Molly…” he began. “Would you like for me to kiss you?” 

Her lips parted as she began to speak and she bit her upper lip just so as she nodded, “Yes. If you want to, of course, don’t do it just because you feel sorry for me or something…” 

He pressed a finger to her lips and shook his head, “I would never feel sorry for you. I see you, Molly. I admire you; your strength.” 

She felt tears well up.  _ Fudge. Don’t cry now. _ As if knowing she needed a diversion, Severus leaned in, his hand cupping her cheek, some of his fingers splayed into her soft red wavey hair, and he kissed her, soft and warm. Her body relaxed at his touch and she pressed into him, letting herself feel for the first time in a long time. 


	94. Unexpected Comfort: Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly bumps into a familiar face in Diagon Alley.

Severus Snape didn’t often go out, he didn’t like any attention being put on him—positive or negative. After all the years he spent as a double agent, he just wanted to be left alone. 

He had gone out into town for some supplies, but, first, he was going to get some ice cream. He wasn’t the type to usually eat ice cream, but he was struck with the want for it. Severus had told himself, once the war was over, once he woke up in St Mungos shocked to be alive, that he wasn’t going to deny himself of the things he wanted. 

So far this mainly applied to different types of foods, which meant Severus had gained weight, but it was fine, he didn’t care. As he was in the shop he heard two young girls in conversation: “You’re weird,” one had said. The other quipped, “You’re just basic.” For whatever reason Severus was deeply irritated with these girls and with their conversation, and he quickly, without contemplation, left the ice cream shop, rushing into Slug & Jiggers. 

Looking back, he’d supposed he should be thankful for these girls, as, if they hadn’t annoyed him so, he wouldn’t have been in the shop at the perfect moment to spot Molly Weasley.

Severus kept in the shadows of the doorway when he spotted her in there. He wasn’t sure why he was hiding from her, why he was watching her per se, but he was. 

The woman looked essentially the same, she’d clearly lost some of her jovial sweet plumpness which was a byproduct of feeding everyone you loved, but she still had a curvy, and lovely figure. While he would never admit it to anyone, Severus had always liked Molly. Despite everything, she was always so kind to him, always insisted on having him for dinner, always asking him how he was. She always seemed to just see him and not the double-agent, not the cruel professor, not the lonely man. 

The hardest thing about seeing Molly in the shop was how sad she looked, and he watched as she set down a book on a shelf as she pulled down another—a book she had walked in with. He watched as she left the book there, perhaps forgetting it. As she began to leave, he walked towards the bookshelf and pulled down the book that clearly did not belong. He considered the title and let it fall open to the appointment card.  _ Mind-healing _ . 

Severus rushed outside to hand her the book. He listened as she explained, and when she asked him to tea. When  _ she  _ asked  _ him _ , he wanted so desperately to be around her more, if only to just be around someone else for some time. He wasn’t concerned with what might get brought up with her. He didn’t think she would want to talk about the war or his role in it, and that was such a relief. 

He went back inside the shop, planning to put the book and her appointment card back on the shelf, to respect her wishes of wanting to “lose” it, but something nagged at him; he cast a charm on the book to make it small and he slipped it into his coat pocket; he would anonymously owl it to her in a few days. Something told him that if her children had insisted she do this, then she needed it. He didn’t believe Molly Weasley’s children were bossy about much when it came to their mother. 

He was just as surprised as Molly had been when they ended up back in his flat drinking wine and laughing about the most absurd things. He was even more surprised when she pressed her body into him and when she kissed him. 

He wanted to kiss her, his only reservation was how it made her feel emotionally, whether this was going to be helpful or harmful to her. While they hadn’t discussed her losses, her grief, or how she really was, Severus knew the sadness and guilt that had settled into the marrow of her bones. But, as the woman made it clear she wanted him to kiss her, he felt he wasn’t able to deny her or himself the pleasure of another person’s touch.

Severus enjoyed kissing Molly, which wasn’t something he thought he’d ever experience. She was everything his life had not been: She was soft and sweet and warm; she smelled like sugar biscuits with a touch of citrus, and he found himself wanting to take all of her in, wanting to bottle this warmth, this scent, and keep it with him at all times. 

While he had always liked Molly, while he had always thought Molly was vivaciously gorgeous, he hadn’t ever thought about kissing her or touching her intimately until this evening over tea and now wine.

He kept his hands still, one hand on her cheek, the other resting lightly on her waistline. Severus hadn’t been with many women, and only once was it something as intimate as this. He was approaching forty and at this moment he felt like a teenage boy. His groin was demanding he slide his hands to her chest, down her back to her arse, all over her thighs, but he knew better than that; he was far more controlled than that, but damn if he didn’t want to. Severus would do nothing unless he was absolutely certain, from her lips to Merlin’s ears, that she wanted it to be done.

He felt his stomach lurch in anxious excitement when Molly’s hand rested on his upper thigh, and he became over aware of tightening at his zipper.

As they kissed, her tongue gently caressing his, his teeth lightly grazing her bottom lip, she pressed herself close to him, and he could feel the heat from her skin, the swell of her breasts pressing against him. He felt as if he might come right then. He wanted to palm her chest, to tease and tweak her nipples. Merlin, he wanted to bury his face in her breasts while he was buried inside of her. But still, despite these thoughts raging in his brain, he kept his hands firmly planted. 

Finally, she leaned in and pressed her soft pink lips to his ear, "You can touch me if you’d like." It was all he needed to hear and he grasped onto her waist tighter and let his other hand roam down to her thighs, slipping it underneath her dress and letting it relax against the warmth of the bare skin on her midthigh. 

Over the course of the evening, Severus lapped at Molly as if she were a warm bowl of cream and he was a hungry tabby cat. Her skin even reminded him of cream, ivory white and soft, tinges of pink when she flushed, a splatter of red freckles by her belly button, on her shoulders; she shied away at first, using her hands to cover stretch marks, the dimpled skin below her belly button, where she’d carried all her babies. 

He could tell she felt insecure, unsure of herself; he tried to push those thoughts from her mind, slowly pulling her hands onto him and away from whatever she was hiding of herself. He let his fingers and lips caress her dimpled thighs, the stretch marks on her hips. To him, all of her was worthy of his affections. He wasn’t trying to prove anything about himself to her, he simply wanted her to feel good. If there was one thing Severus understood it was how far away something as simple as feeling good sometimes was when you were riddled with guilt and pain, and, so if he could give her, a woman who had given so many so much, some relief, he would. 

Later, they lied next to one another on his bed, nude except for the bedsheet. Molly felt sticky and warm and relaxed. She had forgotten the positive effects orgasms had on the mind. 

Severus faced her, brushed her hair back from her face, “Would you like to stay the night? You don’t have to. I understand if you don’t want to, but I just wanted you to know I would like you to, if it’s what you wish.”

Molly sighed and shook her head, “No. I should get home. Not that I don’t want to say. Not that I didn’t enjoy myself. My children, one of them, I’m sure has called on me. They’ll be in a tizzy. They mean well; I just don’t usually, well I haven’t...I don’t go out.”

A small smile played at his lips as he watched her speak, “It’s okay. But, you should.”

“I should what?” she asked as she sat up in bed, pulling the sheet with her to cover her chest. Shiness creeping up again. 

“Go out.” He shrugged as he said it as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

“But with whom and what for?” she implored.

“Well, for starters, you could go to that appointment your daughter booked for you; it will help you. Believe me. And, then, after, you and I could go for dinner.”

She let out a deep breath, jutting her jaw just-so. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

He looked down at the bedsheets and nodded, “Yes.” 

“If I don’t go to the appointment, will we still go to dinner?” She smiled at him.

“Merlin, yes. I just don’t want you to have to deal with the wrath of your daughter. She’s fierce.” They both laughed at this, and he continued, “I know it’s not my business, and you are free to do what you like, but I will tell you that, from experience, mind-healers can help. I still go to a mind-healer, every week. Sometimes twice. It’s a process, Molly, but a good one.” 

She nodded, tears welling up just so, “Okay. Fine. Give me the book back.”

“How do you know I have the book?”

“I just do. I raised Fred and George, I know when someone has something hidden. Give me the book back.” He laughed at this and nodded, getting out of bed to fetch her book, hoping to get back into bed with her once more, settle between her soft thighs, and make her come again before she went home. 


	95. The Happiest Place on Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry proposes a vacation to Tonks

A four-year old Teddy with bright green hair runs amuck in the house, the rain pouring outside for the fourth day in a row, and Tonks shuts her eyes and takes a long deep breath. Within moments she hears a pop as her sort-of, we’re not exclusive yet, boyfriend Harry apparates into the living room.

“We need a vacation.” He says, happily and cheerfully.

Tonks opens her eyes and nods, “You read my mind too much. It scares me, really. How did you know I was just thinking that?”

“Well, it’s been raining almost nonstop for weeks. Teddy is sick and tired of being indoors. I’m sick and tired of being indoors. You are sick and tired of me and Teddy being restless.”

She nodded vigorously, “Yes. The both of you have too much bloody energy for being inside this much.”

“That’s why I’ve booked us a vacation. We leave tomorrow.” He beamed again.

“What? Really? Where are we going?”

Harry plopped down on the couch next to here, “We are going to the happiest place on Earth. Disney World.” 

“In America?” she inquired a bit shocked at this trip.

He nodded, “Oh yes. I’ve always wanted to go. I’ve got special clearance with work, so we can go in the evenings undetected from Muggles. Teddy’s going to love it, and it’ll give us a break. Also, your mum’s coming, that way we can go out. Eh? Eh?” He raised his eyebrows in excitement.

She chuckled and nodded, “I suppose we need to pack then. You can tell Teddy.”


	96. So Show Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In their eighth year at Hogwarts, Pansy and Hermione begin an unexpected friendship.

Pansy couldn't explain it. Whatever it was with Hermione, but there it was. 

At night, in her bed, Pansy would try to figure out  _ why  _ exactly she liked Hermione so much. For starters as a popular, attractive Slytherin, she had always had a lot of friends and a lot of people who were interested in her. And, yet, she found she wanted to be around Hermione the most. 

It started unexpectedly, both of them came back for what they were calling their “eighth” year at Hogwarts, after the war. The two women got thrown together in their classes as partners often. Hermione didn't really respond to Pansy initially, the curly-haired witch did what was needed for their assignment and left it at that. As the months passed, Pansy managed to pull more and more out of Hermione. 

It was obvious to her that her Gryffindor partner lacked confidence in herself, which baffled Pansy. Was Hermione not part of The Golden Trio that saved the Wizarding World, was she not thought to be the brightest witch of their age, and was she not already on the right track to becoming Minister? Whatever intelligence Hermione possessed, it clearly wasn't enough to boost her confidence. She still seemed to question herself, or, perhaps, Pansy wondered, if that was just because she was around her—if Pansy brought that out in Hermione, then she wanted to fix it. 

The thing with Hermione, however, was that Pansy didn't want to  _ just  _ be Hermione's friend. In the library when they would research together, Pansy would catch a whiff of her curls—rosemary and mint, and her skin would tingle with warmth. She would glance over at the perfect moment and see the swell of Hermione's breasts pulling at her top and this would leave Pansy wanting to look more. When Hermione spoke, the dark-haired witch would catch herself staring at Hermione's mauve-coloured, plump lips. And, Merlin, the places Pansy wanted those lips. 

Whether Hermione picked up on any of this, she wasn't sure, and so she just focused on making it clear to Hermione that she wasn't the stuck-up bitch she'd been in their younger years, that she didn't dislike her for her blood status and never had, and that she admired and respected Hermione, deeply; that she wanted to be her friend. 

It didn't take long for Pansy to figure out what made Hermione tick. Praise. Unadulterated praise and admiration. It was easy, really, because Pansy did admire her. 

Hermione and Pansy, on paper, didn't match up, and this allowed Pansy to highlight Hermione's strengths. Where Hermione was introverted, Pansy was extroverted, which made it so that she could show an appreciation for the fact that Hermione didn't  _ need _ to be doing something, she was content to sit in the common room and read. 

Very slowly, the pair were found together more often than not. Pansy even began admitting to Hermione how much their friendship meant to her, and even how she found that she  _ needed _ Hermione. She saw it like this: They balanced one another out, Hermione calmed Pansy's tendencies to be high-strung, and Pansy pushed Hermione to be more comfortable in her own skin. Hermione gave Pansy a level of comfort she’d never had before, and Pansy was grateful for it. 

The biggest issue in all this was that their blossoming friendship didn't squash Pansy's amorous feelings for Hermione if anything it made Pansy want her more, but now it was much more than wanting to run her lips down Hermione's hip bones. She wanted to feel her and be near her in all aspects.

One evening, Pansy sat near the fire in the eight year's common room, when Hermione came in with Harry Potter; he was visiting her, and Hermione seemed so happy to see the man, to be near him, to talk to him. Pansy, waved and said hello cordially, then went back to reading Witch Weekly. 

As Harry went to leave hours later, Hermione wrapped her arms tightly around him and Pansy was certain she saw her fingers linger and graze Harry's waist. And when Hermione squeezed Harry's hand before leaning in to kiss his cheek Pansy was confronted with an emotion she rarely felt—jealousy. 

Settling in a chair, after her final goodbye to Harry, Pansy eyed her new friend and found she couldn't control her jealousy, "So, why'd you hug him like that? Do you  _ love _ him?"

Hermione looked up at Pansy and baulked. "Love Harry? Like romantically?"

Pansy responded bluntly, "Yes. Potter."

Raising her eyebrows Hermione said, "Oh, so he's Potter again? And, not romantically. I  _ do _ love him, but like a brother." 

Pressing her lips together she nodded, "Hmmm. I see." 

Hermione cocked her head to the side just-so, "Why's it matter to you? Aren't you and  _ Malfoy  _ a thing? You two have been together since the third year, right?"

Setting down her magazine she shook her head, "No. It was more of an arranged thing. And, well, now that things and expectations have changed, he and I are no longer bound to that. Thank Merlin, as he's not my type." 

"What is your type, Pans?"

She wanted to say "you" but stopped herself and just shrugged instead. This was one area that Pansy was terrible at, emotional things, vulnerable things. 

"You're acting awfully jealous of Harry, you know. He's just Harry. Just Harry. I mean," Hermione seemed to be floundering to explain, "he's definitely my best friend, after all we've been through, but he's not...he's not you." 

Raising her eyebrows Pansy pressed her further, "What do you mean?"

Hermione sighed, "I don't know. I've never been good at female friendship, and having you is so nice. You're definitely, quite unexpectedly, one of my best friends." 

A soft smile spread across Pansy's face, "Of course. I mean, I'm excellent, so it only makes sense." Pansy laughed, and Hermione joined in. 

"Alright, well. I'm exhausted. I'm going to bed." Hermione said as she stood up. 

Pansy checked the time and laughed, "Hermione it's not even ten." 

"Really?" She checked the time, too. "Oh. It is still early." 

Hermione got up from the chair and sat next to Pansy on the couch, she stretched her legs out across Hermione's lap, and the curly-haired witch rested her hands against her friend's legs. 

"You didn't answer me, Pans." 

Pansy glanced at her friend, "About what?"

"Your type. What's your type?" 

"Oh. That. Well, I don't know how to explain it. It just is what it is. I don't know."

Hermione chuckled, "You're ridiculous." Pansy sat up, her legs still cast across Hermione's lap, but now, in this position, they were much closer. Pansy was leaning against Hermione's shoulder slightly, "If I tell you, will you not be weird about it."

Hermione looked offended, "When have I ever been weird about something?"

Pansy nodded in agreeance. "It's hard to say, Hermione. It'd be easier to...to...show you."

"Show me? Okay. So, show me." 

Pansy leaned into Hermione a touch more, and she searched Hermione's face for understanding. Her hand falling to Hermione's waist. The amber coloured eyes of her friend met her brilliant green ones with understanding, and both women leaned into one another slowly until their lips brushed. 

The kiss was timid and uncertain at first, but once neither woman pulled away, Pansy kissed her frenzied with want and need. Sucking Hermione's bottom lip between her teeth, Pansy heard a soft moan escape the other woman's mouth, sending a surge of heat to her abdomen.

Hermione slid her tongue softly against Pansy lips while Pansy moved her legs off of Hermione, tucking them beneath her, so she was on her knees beside Hermione, a position that allowed her more control. Pansy tugged Hermione's leg up, so her foot was flat on the cushion, her knee bent, her thighs separated. Hermione let Pansy guide her body and Hermione found her hand between Pansy's legs, and her thumb grazed tentatively against the silk of her panties. Pansy almost growled at Hermione's touch and responded by kissing her hungrily. 

Pansy had to be sure this was what Hermione wanted. That this wasn't just some compliance or experiment. She pulled away from her, "Is this what you want?"

Hermione nodded breathlessly, "Yes! But perhaps the common room isn't the best place for this. We could get caught."

"No one will come in here. Just don't take any of my clothes off, okay?" Pansy laughed.

"We could just go up…"

Pansy shook her head, "Hermione, if I don't get to touch you in the next 30 seconds I'm going to die. If we go up to the room we'll have to…"

Hermione finished the sentence, "Set the charms so the others don't hear and resize the bed." 

Pansy nodded and Hermione kissed her again before saying, "Too much work. Touch me first. Don't die. We'll set the room up later." 

The dark-haired witch slid her hand up Hermione's warm, plump thighs and let her fingers graze the woman's centre. Pansy was elated to find Hermione so wet and so wanting that her panties were soaked. 

Pushing them to the side, her hand hidden beneath Hermione's skirt, she circled her clit slowly before slipping two fingers into her. Hermione groaned, her mouth open, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip. As Pansy worked her fingers inside the woman, Hermione leaned against Pansy, pressing her lips to her neck while sliding her hand up Pansy's toned and slim legs, Hermione wasted no time pushing her fingers into her centre, and she only paused when Pansy began to fuck her harder, allowing Hermione's body to slide into a hard orgasm. 

Hermione determined to make Pansy break beneath her, manoeuvred her body so she was now upright, and pushed Pansy gently onto her back. Hermione climbed on top of her, her fingers still sunk into Pansy's sex. Hermione bit and sucked on the woman's neck while she fucked her with her fingers. When Pansy came she dug her nails into Hermione's hips.

They kissed slower now, and Hermione was the first to speak, "I'm going to go set up my bed. You coming?"

Pansy nodded enthusiastically, "Oh, yes." 


	97. Birthday Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco celebrates Hermione’s birthday.

Rolling over in bed, Draco buried his face in Hermione's thick, chestnut curls. He took in a deep breath, his senses filled with her. He leaned up a little and whispered into her ear, “Happy birthday, love.” 

Hermione groaned, “Thank you, but it’s too early, Draco.”

He chuckled, “Sorry. I’m just excited about the day. You know I love to celebrate  _ you _ .” 

With a smile, she rolled over into his arms and pecked him on the cheek. “So, what is it that we’re doing today?”

“Well, I have several varying options: Plan A, Plan B, and Plan C.” 

Hermione laughed, “So, there are three plans, but I am not allowed to know the detail of any of them?”

He shook his head, “No, but I will tell you this: They all involve lots of food, lots of oral sex, and books. Really it’s the location that changes, all of which you’ll enjoy.”

She smiled and nodded in understanding, “Okay, we’ll let’s go with Plan C.”

Draco beamed, “Good choice.” 


	98. Pancakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Watching Harry make breakfast, Ginny challenges his skills.

More often than not, Harry was happy to admit that Ginny was way better than him at most things. But he  _ knew _ he was the better cook, and he loved this part of their relationship. 

He loved cooking for Ginny, making fun new things for her, especially when she had a rigorous diet due to Quidditch training. The best thing was making her breakfast on Saturday mornings; he had perfected a protein rich, peanut butter, dark chocolate pancake. Usually, she slept in while he cooked, but this morning she was in the kitchen with him; they chatted as he cooked. 

Harry had a pancake in a pan and, suddenly, with a twist of his wrist, it flipped, landing perfectly on its other side. He looked at Ginny and beamed with a wink.

Ginny laughed, “That was luck, Harry! You have Felix Felicis in your juice?”

He shook his head with a laugh, “Luck? Nope. Skills.”

Ginny raised her eyebrows, “Okay, well, if it’s skill then do it again.”

“Challenge accepted. But, first, eat these.” He slid the pancake onto a plate with a stack of others and drizzled some syrup on them and handed them to Ginny.


	99. We Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor and Hermione discuss their future.

In anger, Hermione tossed her a pile of books into the box aptly labelled  _ books.  _ Her breathing was heavy, her cheeks flustered; Viktor walked back into the room, “Vhy are you throwing your things around? You are the one who is leaving. Vhy are  _ you  _ mad at  _ me? _ ”

She turned swiftly on him, “I’m angry, Viktor, because you don’t seem to think our relationship will work if I leave. Why can’t you just believe me?”

Viktor brought his large hands to his face, pressing his fingers gently against his eyes as if massaging away a headache. “Because you lied about it before,” he said in a slow, quiet voice.

Her arms flailed in confusion and frustration and anger, “How can you say I lied? I told you I would always love you and that after the war I would find you, but you? You were gone. You were nowhere to be found. How can you put this all on me? How  _ dare  _ you put this all on me?” Tears were beginning to well in her eyes, her voice cracking as she spoke.

He leaned against a wall, “I didn’t deserve you back then, and I don’t deserve you now. You are going to go avay, again. You are going to realize that I am not worthy. I am just a stupid Quidditch player who has a questionable past due to his family and his school. You are Hermione Granger. You’ll realize someone like Ron who you are supposed to be with not me. If you go back, you won’t vant me anymore.” Now, tears welled in his eyes, and Hermione felt her heart soften and ache at the sight of him. 

She shook her head, “No. No, Viktor. I love  _ you. _ I’m going to go back to London because I have to for my job, but we’re going to make this work because it  _ has _ to work, there is nothing else in the world that works except for you.”

He nodded slowly, “Ve vill work.” He said it out loud as if he needed to reassure himself, instil it into himself. 

“Yes. Always.” 


	100. Baths and Bubbles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape and Tonks share a bath.

Severus Snape walked into his living quarters to find someone else was there. He smirked to himself when he heard bathwater and loud punk music playing from the bathroom. He stripped off his robe, and rolled up the sleeves on his shirt, slipping off his shoes as he did so. He padded in his socks to the bathroom, “Hello, Dora.” 

Her fingers were in her hair, sudsing up her bubblegum pink hair. “Hi. I hope you don’t mind. I was on patrol earlier, and I got hit with gnarly hex. I need to detox, you know?” 

He crouched next to her and nodded, ‘Mmmm. Yes. I bet the Dark Lord would love to know that I have an blood-traitor Auror in my bathtub.”

She laughed, “Yes, well what he doesn’t know doesn’t hurt him, right?”

Severus let out a low chuckle. He stood up, his knees popping loudly as he did so. Tonks pushed herself under the water to rinse her hair and emerged glistening with water droplets and bubbles. “You should get in with me. Relax a bit.”

He furrowed his brow, “The tub isn’t big enough.” He was evading and she knew this, “You’re a wizard, you twit. Elongate it. Please. For me. It’s been a long day.” Sighing he flicked his wand and elongated the tub, with another he vanished his clothes and hesitated before finally stepping into the water. 

As he sunk into he said, “Merlin! This bath is too damn hot. Have you not scalded your skin?” 

Tonks glared at him as he continued to complain about the heat, the bubbles, how headey the scent of lavender was. Finally, splashed him right in the face, “This is why we can’t do cute things. You complain too much!”

He glowered at her playfully and leaned in towards her, “If you splash me again, Miss Tonks, you will be in trouble.” He winked at her, and she immediately splashed him again with a mischievous grin.


	101. The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night before The Battle of Hogwarts, Snape and Trelawney share the evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading these drabbles--whether you read a few or stuck with me from the beginning, I am so grateful for every kudos and comment. 
> 
> It's a little sad to have it end, but, honestly, from these drabbles, I've discovered new pairings that I can't wait to explore.
> 
> Most importantly, I cannot begin to explain how grateful I am for [adavison](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adavison/profile) ; she came up with this challenge, and over the past one hundred days she's pushed and helped me to grow as a writer, all while being a wonderful friend--one I am so lucky to have.
> 
> Again, thank you so much for reading!

It is believed that on the precipice of a major battle, those in combat find themselves at their most calm, their most peaceful: This was true, at least, for Severus Snape. 

He knew, before anyone else, that Potter was on his way to Hogwarts and that, once Potter was in the castle, the real battle would begin. Sure, Severus had been fighting since before Harry was born, and he had been fighting harder since he had murdered Dumbledore, but what was coming would either be the end of the Dark Lord or the end of Harry Potter and, regardless of who claimed victory, many would die. Severus knew that this included himself.

Since becoming headmaster he rarely saw his former lover Sybill Trelawney. He had to keep up appearances, so to speak, and it had been known from the beginning that Sybill had been in Dumbledore’s pocket. Severus also knew that if he were to expose Sybill as important to him, if he were to expose any of her talents in the least, she would be used and later killed by the Dark Lord. Severus, simply put, was not willing to risk her life. She was angry at him, yes, when he cut her off; when he refused to see or speak to her. He had told her lies--she didn’t matter, she was just a warm body to fuck, she was a fraud, she was useless. He was intentionally heartless and cruel, even though he knew she saw right through it. 

At one in the morning, Severus left his office and made his way to the astronomy tower. He hoped he’d find her there, and he did. She was sitting on the floor, with a light-weight robe upon her shoulders, left open, revealing a cotton nightgown. Her feet were bare. Her hair tangled and wavy piled on top of her head with tendrils at the nape of her neck and around her face. A cigarette was in one hand and a bottle of sherry sat by her feet. 

As he stepped out onto the balcony, she looked up at him. Their eyes met and it was apparent that she knew as well what was about to occur. Looking away from him, he watched as she leaned her head against the wall and glanced up at the night’s sky. His heart hurt to see her, to know that this was the last time he ever would. 

Walking over, he sat next to her, his long legs stretched out on the stone, his thigh barely touching hers. He adjusted himself and let out a long deep sigh, one he felt he’d been holding in for the past year. She held her hand out, the one with the cigarette, in his direction, offering it to him. He took it gingerly from her, held it up to his lips, and took a long drag--feeling the smoke fill his lungs, burn his throat, numb his tongue. He handed it back to her and she took it, finishing off the last of it. She pressed it into the stone, putting out the bud before tilting her head to the right and resting it upon his shoulder. 

As the smoke dissipated from his lungs, as the burning in his throat subsided, he found his tongue was still numb, still unable to move the muscles in a way to formulate words, and so, he didn’t. He simply reached out and took her hand in his and squeezed it.


End file.
